Bicho, N. F. (2011) Trekking The Shore PDF

Trekking the Shore
INTERDISCIPLINARY CONTRIBUTIONS TO ARCHAEOLOGY
Series Editor: Jelmer Eerkens, University of California Berkeley, Berkeley, CA, USA
Founding Editor: Roy S. Dickens, Jr., Late of University of North Carolina,
Chapel Hill, NC, USA
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Nuno F. Bicho Jonathan A. Haws
●
Loren G. Davis
Editors
Trekking the Shore

Changing Coastlines and the Antiquity
of Coastal Settlement
Editors
Nuno F. Bicho Loren G. Davis
FCHS, Campus de Gambelas Department of Anthropology
Universidade do Algarve Oregon State University
Faro 238 Waldo Hall, Corvallis, OR 97331
Portugal USA
[email protected] [email protected]
Jonathan A. Haws
Department of Anthropology
University of Louisville
Louisville, KY 40292
USA
[email protected]
ISBN 978-1-4419-8218-6 e-ISBN 978-1-4419-8219-3

DOI 10.1007/978-1-4419-8219-3
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Contents
Part I North America and Eurasia
1 The North American Paleocoastal Concept Reconsidered.................... 3

Loren G. Davis
2 Prehistoric Archaeology Underwater: A Nascent Subdiscipline

Critical to Understanding Early Coastal Occupations
and Migration Routes................................................................................ 27
Amy E. Gusick and Michael K. Faught
3 Early Environments and Archaeology of Coastal

British Columbia........................................................................................ 51
Quentin Mackie, Daryl Fedje, Duncan McLaren,
Nicole Smith, and Iain McKechnie
4 Blessing the Salmon: Archaeological Evidences

of the Transition to Intensive Fishing in the Final
Paleolithic, Maritime Region, Russian Far East..................................... 105
Andrei V. Tabarev
5 Early Technological Organization Along the Eastern

Pacific Rim of the New World: A Co-Continental View......................... 117
Samuel C. Willis and Matthew R. Des Lauriers
6 Technology, Mobility, and Adaptation Among Early

Foragers of the Southern Northwest Coast: The View
from Indian Sands, Southern Oregon Coast, USA................................. 137
Loren G. Davis and Samuel C. Willis
7 Of Clams and Clovis: Isla Cedros, Baja California, Mexico.................. 161

Matthew R. Des Lauriers
v
vi Contents
8 Changes in Molluscan Exploitation Patterns During the Late

Pleistocene and Early Holocene in Eastern Cantabria
(Northern Spain)...................................................................................... 179
F. Igor Gutiérrez-Zugasti
9 Paleolithic Landscapes and Seascapes

of the West Coast of Portugal.................................................................. 203
Jonathan A. Haws, Caroline L. Funk, Michael M. Benedetti,
Nuno F. Bicho, J. Michael Daniels, Thomas A. Minckley,
Rhawn F. Denniston, Marjeta Jeraj, Juan F. Gibaja,
Bryan S. Hockett, and Steven L. Forman
10 Small Game and Marine Resource Exploitation

by Neanderthals: The Evidence from Gibraltar................................... 247
Kimberly Brown, Darren A. Fa, Geraldine Finlayson,
and Clive Finlayson
11 Prying New Meaning from Limpet Harvesting

at Vale Boi During the Upper Paleolithic............................................... 273
Tiina Manne and Nuno F. Bicho
12 Surf and Turf: The Use of Marine and Terrestrial

Resources in the Early Neolithic of Coastal
Southern Portugal.................................................................................... 291
Rebecca M. Dean and António Faustino Carvalho
Part II South America, Africa, and Oceania
13 Pinniped Zooarchaeological Studies in Southern Patagonia:

Current Issues and Future Research Agenda....................................... 305
A. Sebastián Muñoz
14 The Use of the Space in the Pampean Atlantic Coast

and the Adjacent Plains (Argentina, South America):
A Comparative View................................................................................ 333
Mariano Bonomo
15 Coastal Resources and the Early Holocene

Las Vegas Adaptation of Ecuador.......................................................... 355
Karen E. Stothert
16 Initial Investigations into the Exploitation of Coastal

Resources in North Africa During the Late Pleistocene
at Grotte Des Contrebandiers, Morocco................................................ 383
Teresa E. Steele and Esteban Álvarez-Fernández
Contents vii
17 Shellfishing and the Interpretation of Shellfish Sizes

in the Middle and Later Stone Ages of South Africa............................ 405
Judith Sealy and Mariagrazia Galimberti
18 Coastal South Africa and the Coevolution of the Modern

Human Lineage and the Coastal Adaptation........................................ 421
Curtis W. Marean
19 Coastal Foragers on Southern Shores: Marine Resource

Use in Northeast Australia since the Late Pleistocene.......................... 441
Sean Ulm
20 The Role of Marine Resources in the Diet of Pre-Colonial

Aboriginal People and Land Use Patterns Around
Port Jackson, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia.............................. 463
Val Attenbrow
Index.................................................................................................................. 493
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Contributors
Esteban Álvarez-Fernández
Dpto. de Prehistoria, Historia Antigua y Arqueología,
Universidad de Salamanca, Salamanca, Spain
[email protected]
Val Attenbrow
Australian Museum, Sydney, NSW, Australia
[email protected]
Michael M. Benedetti
Department of Geography and Geology, University of North
Carolina-Wilmington, Wilmington, NC, USA
[email protected]
Nuno F. Bicho
FCHS, Campus de Gambelas, Universidade do Algarve,
Faro, Portugal
[email protected]
Mariano Bonomo
CONICET- Departamento Científico de Arqueología, Facultad de Ciencias
Naturales y Museo (UNLP), Pase del bosque s/nº, (1900) La Plata, Argentina
[email protected]
Kimberly Brown
The Gibraltar Museum, 18-20 Bomb House Lane, Gibraltar
[email protected]
António F. Carvalho
Departamento de História, Arqueologia e Património,
Universidade do Algarve, Faro, Portugal
[email protected]
J. Michael Daniels
Department of Geography, University of Denver,
ix
x Contributors
Denver, CO, USA

[email protected]
Loren G. Davis
Department of Anthropology, Oregon State University,
238 Waldo Hall, Corvallis, OR 97331, USA
[email protected]
Rebecca M. Dean
Division of Social Sciences, University of Minnesota-Morris,
600 E. 4th Street, Morris, MN 56267, USA
[email protected]
Rhawn F. Denniston
Department of Geology, Cornell College,
Mt. Vernon, IA, USA
[email protected]
Department of Anthropology, Anthropological Research Institute,
California State University, Northridge, 18111 Nordhoff Avenue, Northridge,
CA 91330, USA
[email protected]
Darren A. Fa
[email protected]
Michael K. Faught
Maritime Archaeology, Panamerican Consultants, Inc.
703 Truett Drive, Tallahassee, FL 32303, USA
[email protected]
Daryl Fedje
Western and Northern service Center, Parks Canada, Victoria, BC, Canada
[email protected]
Clive Finlayson
[email protected]
Geraldine Finlayson
[email protected]
Steven L. Forman
Luminescence Dating Research Laboratory and Department of Earth
and Environmental Sciences, University of Illinois,
Chicago, IL 60607, USA
[email protected]
Contributors xi
Caroline L. Funk
Richfield, MN, USA
[email protected]
Mariagrazia Galimberti
Department of Archaeology, University of Cape Town,
Rondesbosch, South Africa
[email protected]
Juan F. Gibaja
FCHS, Campus de Gambelas, Universidade do Algarve,
Faro, Portugal
[email protected]
Amy E. Gusick
Department of Anthropology, University of California,
Santa Barbara, CA 93106-3210, USA
[email protected]
Jonathan A. Haws
Department of Anthropology, University of Louisville,
Louisville, KY 40292, USA
[email protected]
Bryan S. Hockett
US Bureau of Land Management, Elko, NV, USA
[email protected]
Marjeta Jeraj
Department of Botany, University of Wisconsin-Madison,
Madison, WI, USA
[email protected]
Quentin Mackie
Department of Anthropology, University of Victoria, Victoria, BC, Canada
[email protected]
Tiina Manne
Department of Anthropology, University of Arizona, Building 30,
Tucson, AZ 85731-0030, USA
[email protected]
Curtis W. Marean
Institute of Human Origins, School of Human
Evolution and Social Change, Arizona State University,
872402 Tempe, AZ 85287-2402, USA
[email protected]
Iain McKechnie
Department of Anthropology, University of British Columbia,
xii Contributors
Vancouver, BC, Canada

[email protected]
Duncan McLaren
Department of Anthropology, Cordillera Archaeology and University of Victoria,
Victoria, BC, Canada
[email protected]
Thomas A. Minckley
Department of Botany, University of Wyoming, Laramie, WY, USA
[email protected]
Laboratorio de Zooarqueología y Tafonomía de Zonas Áridas,
CONICET-Museo de Antropología, Universidad Nacional
de Córdoba, Av. H. Yrigoyen 174, 5000 Córdoba, Argentina
[email protected]
Judith Sealy
Private Bag X3, Rondesbosch 7701, South Africa
[email protected]
Nicole Smith
Western and Northern Service Center, Parks Canada, Vancouver, BC, Canada
[email protected]
Teresa E. Steele
One Shields Avenue, Davis, CA 95616-8522, USA
and
Department of Human Evolution, Max Planck
Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology, Deutscher Platz 6,
04103 Leipzig, Germany
[email protected]
Karen E. Stothert
Department of Anthropology, The University of Texas at San Antonio,
San Antonio, Texas 78249, USA
[email protected]
Andrei V. Tabarev
Institute of Archaeology and Ethnography, Novosibirsk, Russia
[email protected]
Sean Ulm
Department of Anthropology, Archaeology and Sociology,
School of Arts and Social Sciences, James Cook University,
Contributors xiii
PO Box 6811, Cairns, QLD 4870, Australia

[email protected]
Samuel C. Willis
Department of Anthropology, Oregon State University,
Corvallis, OR, USA
[email protected]
Department of Archaeology, BioArch, University of York,
Biology S-Block, Wentworth Way, York YO10 5DD,
England (UK)
[email protected]
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Prologue
Nuro F. Bicho, Jonathan A. Haws, and Loren G. Davis
In the last decade, several review articles have laid the groundwork for a new
appreciation of prehistoric human coastal adaptations and food resources (e.g.,
Bailey and Milner 2002; Bailey et al. 2008; Bailey and Flemming 2008; Erlandson
2001; Erlandson and Fitzpatrick 2006). These articles have renewed and updated
many themes from previous decades and reframed the importance of coasts for
human societies by casting off many negative assumptions about marine resources
and environments. Coastal zones are no longer dismissed as marginal areas full of
“fall-back” resources of limited economic value. Instead, coastal zones are being
recast as primary eco-niches for humans from the earliest periods of prehistory to
the present. This perspective shift flows from eight themes driving current interest
in coastal archaeology that Erlandson and Fitzpatrick (2006) outlined in their inau-
gural article for the new Journal of Island and Coastal Archaeology. Much of the
impetus for renewed interest in the antiquity of coastal adaptations derives from a
number of research prerogatives including: the role marine resources played in
human evolution and dispersal, including migration routes; improved paleoenviron-
mental studies that have led to new models for human eco-dynamics in coastal
zones; application of new technology to explore, map, and characterize submerged
landscapes; the recognition of human impacts on ancient marine environments; and
cognitive approaches that use ethnography to inform on past human perceptions of
coastal landscapes and seascapes. The majority of this new work has been devel-
oped in traditional areas of coastal archaeology including Scandinavia, the British
Isles, and the Pacific Rim.
In the spirit of this new focus, we organized two conference symposia on the
antiquity of coastal adaptations: one in Lisbon organized by Bicho and Haws for the
2006 UISPP congress, the other in Austin organized by Davis for the 2007 Society
for American Archaeology meeting. While the SAA session focused on late
Pleistocene colonization of western North America, the UISPP symposium empha-
sized prehistoric hunter–gatherer coastal adaptations in regions outside traditional
research areas. The present volume seeks to expand the spatio-temporal coverage
by highlighting the latest research on the antiquity of coastal adaptations.
xv
xvi N.F. Bicho et al.
Coastal Resources in Human Evolution
The earlier use of marine and estuarine resources during the Paleolithic has been
documented over the last several decades (Antunes 1990–91, 2000; Barton 2000;
Bicho and Haws 2008; Cleyet-Merle and Madelaine 1995; de Lumley 1969;
McBurney 1967; Roche and Texier 1976; Roubet 1969; Souville 1973; Stiner 1994;
Waechter 1964). Many of the early reports give simple lists of species without any
critical review of how they got there or their importance in terms of hunter–gatherer
adaptation. In spite of the recognition that most Pleistocene shores are now sub-
merged and potential sites are unavailable, most archaeologists dismissed or
ignored this evidence as incidental and concluded that Paleolithic people rarely
utilized marine resources.
Within the last two decades, researchers have come to see coastal resources in a
new light. Moving beyond energetic considerations that minimize their value,
coastal resources are now thought to have played important roles in Paleolithic diet
and subsistence (Kuhn and Stiner 2006; Parkington 2001; Pettitt et al. 2003; Stiner
et al. 2000). In particular, coastal resources may have played a critical role in the
development and expansion of the human brain and retinal quality by providing
long-chain polyunsaturated fatty acids, specifically docosahexaenoic acid (DHA)
and arachninoid acid (AA) present in the Omega 3 and Omega 6 series (Broadhurst
et al. 1998, 2002; Crawford et al. 1999; Cunnane et al. 1993; Parkington 2001;
Uauy and Dangour 2006). These fatty acids, invaluable during pregnancy and early
childhood, are not produced in the human body (Broadhurst et al. 2002; Jensen
2006; Milligan & Bazinet 2008) but occur naturally in aquatic plants and animals.
Many of these resources are easily gathered and thus would have been important
elements in Paleolithic subsistence. Some of the easiest resources to collect are
marine shellfish that also provide important sources of essential nutrients for brain
development. Among edible species of shellfish, limpets produce the highest
amounts of AA and DHA, at least during spawning periods (Brazão et al. 2003;
Gardner & Riley 1972). Limpets are also the most common species in many of the
early sites with coastal resources, including Neanderthal sites, such as Grotta
Breuil, in Italy (Stiner 1994), Gorham’s and Vanguard caves in Gibraltar (Baden
Powell 1964; Barton 2000; Fa 2008; Brown et al. 2011), and Figueira Brava Cave
in Portugal (Antunes 1990–91; Callapez 2000). For modern humans there are many
early examples in South Africa at Klasies River Mouth (Voigt 1982), Pinnacle Point
(Marean et al. 2007), Blombos Cave (Henshilwood et al. 2001b), Ysterfontein 1
(Avery et al. 2008), and Hoedjies Punt 3 (Parkington 2003) (see also Marean 2011;
Sealy and Galimberti 2011) and in North Africa (Steele, this volume). For the
Upper Paleolithic, there are numerous sites with shell assemblages dominated by
limpets in Iberia including La Riera (Ortea 1986), Vale Boi (Bicho and Stiner 2006;
Manne et al., this volume), Bajondillo (Cortés et al. 2008), and Cueva de Nerja
(Morales et al. 1998).
If diet choice enabled human brain development and expansion then determin-
ing the antiquity of coastal adaptations becomes a critical research prerogative.
Prologue xvii
The current evidence places coastal resource use back to the Middle Pleistocene
during which a significant leap in the encephalization quotient occurred with the
appearance of H. heidelbergensis (Ruff et al. 1997). The presence of H. erectus in
Indonesia on the island of Flores ~800 ka (Morwood et al. 1998) offers tantalizing
evidence for very early sea crossing capability and would suggest good knowledge
of tides necessary to make the trip (see Marean 2011). In Europe, the Middle
Pleistocene sites Clacton-on-sea and Boxgrove (Roberts and Parfitt 1999) are
located in coastal settings but no direct evidence of marine resource use has been
documented. So far, the oldest evidence for shellfish consumption (de Lumley et al.
2004; Villa 1983) comes from Terra Amata (400 ka) and Grotte du Lazaret (250 ka)
associated with H. heidelbergensis. Cognitive abilities are widely thought to have
increased markedly in anatomically modern humans ~200 ka (Marean 2011;
McBrearty and Brooks 2000). Early modern human shellfish exploitation is evident
now at Pinnacle Point in South Africa dated to ~165 ka (Marean et al. 2007; this
volume) and the other sites mentioned above. Evidence also exists for coastal set-
tlement and resource utilization by H. neanderthalensis, in Italy (Stiner 1994),
Portugal (Bicho 2004; Bicho and Haws 2008; Haws et al. 2011), Spain (Cortés,
et al. 2008; Zilhão et al. 2010), and Gibraltar (Finlayson 2008; Brown et al. 2011).
In any case, this evidence seems to suggest a frequent use of the coastal settings.
In the last two decades, archaeologists have documented human impacts on
ancient marine and estuarine animal populations. This has emerged as a major
research focus in coastal archaeology leading to a proliferation of data from around
the world. For the Holocene, worldwide evidence now exists for “fishing down the
food web” in coastal environments (Mannino and Thomas 2002; Rick and
Erlandson 2008). For the Pleistocene, Klein (1998; Klein et al. 2004) and Stiner
et al. (2000) have measured size diminution in shellfish between the Middle Stone
Age/Middle Paleolithic and Late Stone Age/Upper Paleolithic assemblages in
Africa and the Mediterranean Basin. Steele, Sealy, and Galimberti (this volume)
present data to support and question the nature of the evidence.
Human Dispersal and Migration
Modern human development and diaspora is closely linked to the sea and the
coastal settings. The intensive use of marine resources with specialized technolo-
gies seems to be an exclusive trait of modern humans. The presence of bone har-
poons at Katanga (Yellen 1998) and bone points in association with fish bones in
Blombos Cave (Henshilwood et al. 2001a) provide the earliest evidence for innova-
tion. Rose (2007) and Petraglia and Rose (2009) have championed a Red Sea cross-
ing from the East Africa (Kenya, Somalia, Djibouti, and Eritrea) to the Arabian
Peninsula (Oman and Yemen), for the dispersion of modern humans out of Africa
and into Asia. The sea was a fundamental factor on the dispersal of modern humans
to many archipelagos in the Indian and the Pacific oceans, including New Guinea/
Papua (>35 ka), Australia (40 ka), New Ireland (30 ka), and the Japanese islands
xviii N.F. Bicho et al.
(26 ka) (Allen et al. 1989; Matsu’ura 1996; Roberts et al. 1990; Thorne et al. 1990).
These cases are remarkable because they challenge widely held beliefs that humans
lacked significant seafaring capabilities prior to the mid-late Holocene.
Three decades after Fladmark’s (1979) logical argument, it now appears that the
peopling of the Americas was likely a coastal migration. A coastal migration
readily explains the early settlement of Monte Verde at the tip of South America.
Coastal settings were highly rich in biomass and offered numerous easy accessible
dietary resources. Not surprisingly, the earliest evidence for human settlement
along the West coasts of both continents also includes use of coastal resources
(Erlandson et al. 2007, 2008; for a critical review see Davis 2011).
Coastal Environments and Human Adaptation
Fifteen years ago, Price (1995) called for increased understanding of the linkages
between coastal productivity and the archaeological record of human adaptations.
As Perlman (1980) noted previously, coastal environments are highly variable in
productivity and attractiveness to humans. As a result, human settlement and
resource use in these areas will vary in space and time as productivity changes.
Two of the richest types of coastal environments are associated with estuaries
and upwelling zones. Human settlement often occurs in these environments because
they are ecotone settings where aquatic and terrestrial ecosystems converge. Thus,
it may be possible to predict human settlement intensity in areas with good paleoen-
vironmental data sets. A substantial body of paleoclimatic and oceanographic
research completed in the last couple of decades has enabled ever increasing spatio-
temporal resolution of data for paleoenvironmental reconstructions in coastal
zones. We now have improved data showing important fluctuations in ocean pro-
ductivity through time that can be used to build and test models for human settle-
ment that attempt to correlate the two. During cold events in the Pleistocene,
upwelling systems strengthened along western Europe as wind circulation intensi-
fied due to the growth of ice sheets and compression of temperature gradients
towards the equator. Terrestrial ecosystems on the European continent suffered
reduced biomass as a result of altered precipitation patterns. Coastal zones were
probably critical places for survival along the western margins of the European
continent. With lowered sea level, water tables shifted and increased surface water
availability near shores (Faure et al. 2002; Sauer 1962). This in turn would have led
to the concentration of terrestrial plants and animals in the coastal zone creating a
rich ecotone setting for human exploitation. It is not surprising that we find early
coastal sites along the western margins of the European continent where upwelling
zones occur.
Along the Pacific Rim of the New World, geologic records indicate that, unlike
Europe, upwelling systems were apparently quite variable during the Pleistocene,
and cold glacial and interstadials periods were accompanied by lower marine
Prologue xix
p roductivity. Furthermore, western North American precipitation patterns were

greatly enhanced during the Pleistocene, promoting the growth of massive pluvial
lakes and highly productive wetland ecosystems throughout modern-day desert
regions. Although different than the European situation, North American marine
ecosystems are clearly used by the Younger Dryas interval and South American
coastal resources are first used during the Bølling-Ållerød period.
Archaeological Record of Coastal Settlement

and Resource Use
The archaeological record of coastal settlement is well documented for the period
since present sea level was reached in the last few millennia. The best known places
include the North Atlantic, especially Scandinavia and the British Isles, and the
Pacific Rim. These areas have been investigated for well over a century and have
produced a substantial body of evidence for Holocene coastal adaptations. Despite
this research there are still many areas that require systematic survey of coastal
margins to understand regional variability in coastal settlement and resource use.
Chapters by Brown, Manne, Bonomo, Muñoz, Stothert, Tabarev, and Ulm illustrate
this variability in the appearance coastal settlement and of marine and estuarine
resources (fish, shellfish, shore birds, marine mammals).
The lack of evidence for widespread Pleistocene coastal adaptations has been
the subject of discussion and debate for decades (e.g., the Broad Spectrum
Revolution model – Brinford 1968; Flannery 1969). The most basic factor limiting
the visibility of coastal sites is the position of ancient shorelines. The distance to
the shore is a major factor in the location of coastal sites in prehistory. As many
have observed, coastal food resources are rarely transported more than 10 km away
from the shore and most of the evidence has accumulated with 2–4 km (Meehan
1982; Erlandson 2001). The position of ancient shorelines is critical to the antiquity
of coastal adaptations (Bailey and Parkington 1988; Shackleton 1988). This
requires local and regional scale studies of offshore bathymetry, submerged land-
scapes, coastal geomorphology, isostatic rebound, and neotectonism that can be
used to build predictive models of coastal settlement and target archaeological sur-
vey for early Holocene and Pleistocene coastal sites. Obviously, discovering earlier
coastal sites is made difficult by the impact of postglacial sea level rise on the
Paleolithic archaeological record. The fact that for the last 120,000 years sea level
remained considerably lower than today (−60 to −120 m) means that the continental
shelf extended considerably in many places. The now-submerged platform used by
Paleolithic hunter–gatherers, was also exposed before the previous sea highstand,
the MIS 5e. It is very likely that an incredibly high number of sites were submerged
and may still be preserved underwater (Bailey and Flemming 2008). The sub-
merged region is a very large exceeding 16 million km2 (Bailey 2004), or about
10% of the total current habitable land surface.
xx N.F. Bicho et al.
Finding the Sites
There are a number of possible situations for discovering earlier coastal sites:
submerged sites from previous lowstands, sites from previous interglacial highstands
still visible on land, tectonically or isostatically uplifted sites from before the
Atlantic transgression. This present volume includes several contributions by Gusick
and Faught, Des Lauriers, Mackie, Davis, and Haws that cover these situations.
Submerged Landscapes and Underwater Archaeology
In the early twentieth century, Clement Reid recognized the “lost world” of
now-submerged Pleistocene landscapes around the British Isles. His book, Submerged
Forests (1913), documented the first evidence of the flooded landscape of what is
now known as Doggerland. The implications were not lost on Grahame Clark who
subsequently articulated the archaeological significance of this drowned landscape
(Clark 1936). Over the following decades, geographers and archaeologists began to
compile evidence for Pleistocene coastal settlement and resource use around the
world. Work focused on the potential for submerged archaeological sites on the inner
continental shelf (e.g., Emery and Edwards 1966) and the importance of coastal
resources to prehistoric people (e.g., Meighan 1969; Moseley 1975; Sauer 1962).
Additional effort was aimed at correlating raised marine platforms with glacial/inter-
glacial cycles. Lacking precise radiometric dating methods, stone artifact typologies
were used to establish age control in the Old World. In the 1960s, Richards and
Fairbridge (1965, 1970, also Richards 1974) complied annotated bibliographies to
systematically compile the global evidence of Pleistocene raised beaches and archae-
ological sites. The works collectively demonstrated the existence of extensive geo-
logical and archaeological records of interglacial sea-level highstands, tectonically
raised marine deposits with associated Paleolithic artifacts and potentially wide-
spread evidence for Paleolithic coastal adaptations. In the 1980s, Masters and
Flemming (1983) published a landmark volume on the antiquity of coastal adapta-
tions and archaeological evidence for coastal settlement. Their collection, Quaternary
Coastlines and Marine Archaeology: Towards the Prehistory of Land Bridges and
Continental Shelves, evolved out of a Scripps conference focused on sea-level fluc-
tuations, paleoenvironmental setting of submerged prehistoric sites and up-to-date
information from surveys and excavations of submerged sites around the world.
Since then, new technologies for deep-sea exploration have been increasingly
applied to searching for submerged archaeological sites, including shipwrecks, and
landscapes. Robert Ballard’s (2008 and Ballard et al. 2001) work in the Black Sea
captured the public imagination that is an important element in attracting the
necessary funding to support submerged archaeology. Less publicized but equally
important research on submerged landscapes and archaeology has been undertaken in
many places including the Pacific Northwest (Josenhans et al. 1995; Mackie et al.
2011), Baja California (Gusick this volume), Gulf of Mexico (Dunbar et al. 1992;
Prologue xxi
Evans et al. 2007; Faught 2004; Gusick and Faught 2011), New England (Coleman
& McBride 2008), Newfoundland (Westley and Dix 2006), Ireland (Quinn et al.
2008), the U.K., (Plets et al. 2007), the North Sea (Coles 1998; Gaffney et al. 2008),
Denmark (Fischer 1995), Mediterranean Sea, Red Sea, and South Australia (Flatman
et al. 2006). Most of these projects are tied to significant questions of anthropological
interest or cultural heritage. The striking potential of submerged archaeology is best
seen by the discoveries of Tybrind Vig off Denmark and Bouldnor Cliff off the Isle of
Wight. These Mesolithic sites have yielded amazing preservation of organic materials
that attest to large amount of evidence that is missing from terrestrial sites. As the new
technologies become more widely applied we expect to see similar evidence from
Paleolithic sites emerge from greater depths. Many ongoing projects have the poten-
tial to yield significant new information about the antiquity of coastal adaptations.
In the United States, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and
private interests have funded a new underwater project by James Adovasio and Andy
Hemmings to survey and map the submerged landscape and archaeological record off
the coast of Northwest Florida using side-scanning sonar, sub-bottom profiling, and
diving. The project titled, “The First Snowbirds: The Archaeology of Inundated Late
Pleistocene Landscapes in the Northeastern Gulf of Mexico” is designed to address
the nature and timing of human entry into the New World. On the opposite coast,
Gusick and Davis (2009) have also received NOAA funds to search for early sub-
merged shorelines and sites in Mexico’s Sea of Cortez. Mackie and Fedje (this vol-
ume) have been conducting similar research funded by the Canadian government.
The Deutsches Archäologisches Institut has been conducting an underwater
survey of northern Germany. The project, “Sinking Coasts: Geosphere, Climate and
Anthroposphere of the Holocene Southern Baltic Sea” (SINCOS II), began after
discoveries of late Mesolithic and Neolithic sites offshore in the 1990s.
In the U.K., Byrony Coles (1998) renewed archaeological interest in the sub-
merged landscape of Doggerland with her “speculative survey.” Following up on
her work, Gaffney et al. (2007) engaged the exploratory oil and gas industry to use
their seismic surveys to make highly detailed maps of Doggerland topography and
hydrology. Along this vein, the Irish National Strategic Archaeological Research
(INSTAR) Programme recently funded a Submerged Landscapes Archaeological
Network (SLAN) project to engage cooperative relationships with the Joint Irish
Bathymetric Survey in an effort to reconstruct the paleogeography of submerged
landscapes and investigate the potential archaeological record.
The recent European Union funding of the transnational and interdisciplinary
project Submerged Prehistoric Archaeology and Landscapes of the Continental
Shelf by the European Cooperation in Science and Technology (COST) program
demonstrates a significant commitment to submerged archaeology and the antiquity
of coastal settlement. The project is not geared towards data collection as it is
building awareness of the significance of drowned landscapes and underwater
archaeology as a first step to establishing a framework to bring together scientists,
government agencies, commercial and industrial entities to promote research, guide
heritage management and policy-making, and understand the impact of future
sea-level change. The enormous costs for characterizing and investigating the
xxii N.F. Bicho et al.
s ubmerged landscapes and archaeology of the continental shelf require a coopera-

tive engagement between scientists, industry, and government. This framework is
designed to encourage sharing knowledge and expertise. This represents another
combined academic and governmental agency project that will efficiently use
resources to increase the feasibility of submerged landscape archaeology.
The challenge in all of the current underwater research is to get deeper to older
submerged landscapes. With seismic surveying, side-scanning sonar and sub-bottom
profiling, potential survey areas can be identified but excavation is problematic due
to logistics and cost. Nearly all of the projects operate within the limits of SCUBA
and getting deeper requires more expensive submersible transport vehicles to con-
duct extensive excavation.
Visibility on Land
Pleistocene coastal sites are seldom visible on land except under special conditions.
During earlier highstands like MIS 5e, the sea was 3–5 m higher than today and
coastal sites dated to the Last Interglacial have been found in close proximity to
ancient shores. Examples exist from North Africa at Grotte des Contrabandiers
(Roche and Texier 1976; Souville 1973; Steele, this volume) and Haua Fteah
(McBurney 1967), along the Red Sea at Abdur (Bruggeman et al. 2004; Walter
et al. 2000), and South Africa at Klasies River Mouth (Singer and Wymer 1982,
Marean 2011), Blombos cave and Pinnacle Point (Marean 2011). Many other pos-
sible sites exist in Africa and Eurasia but these are undated and occur in secondary
context on raised marine platforms.
In areas with narrow continental shelves and steep bathymetry, the distance to
the glacial shorelines is lessened and evidence for coastal settlement and resource
use may be found. Situations like this are found along the Iberian Peninsula and
include Nazaré and Sesimbra, in central Portugal (Haws et al. 2011), Algarve
(Bicho 2004; Bicho and Haws 2008; Manne, this volume), Gibraltar (Brown et al.
2011), Malaga (Morales et al. 1998), and Cantabria (Bailey and Craighead 2003;
Gutiérrez Zugasti 2011).
Secondly, in tectonically active areas, coastal uplift may alter the relative dis-
tance from sites to the ancient shoreline (Bailey and Flemming 2008; Bicho and
Haws 2008; Haws et al. 2011). Many sites including Mira Nascente and Figueira
Brava in Portugal (Benedetti et al. 2009; Haws et al. in press, 2011) have been
preserved on land due to these processes.
Organization of the Volume
We organized the volume in two sections, based on latitude. Part I includes chapters
on North America and Eurasia; Part Two comprises papers on South America,
Africa and Oceania (Fig. 1).
Prologue
Fig. 1 Map with location of sites from each chapter. Base map adapted from http://kantan-net.main.jp
xxiii
xxiv N.F. Bicho et al.
Davis leads off Part One with a contemporary and provocative review of the
archaeological evidence for early coastal settlement of North America. Gusick and
Faught present compelling arguments for the importance of underwater archaeol-
ogy in the study of early coastal human occupations and migration routes for initial
peopling of the Americas. The antiquity of North American coastal adaptations is
reviewed and critically evaluated in various papers, covering the eastern Pacific
from Canada’s Northwest Coast (Chap. 3), the Pacific Northwest (Chap. 6), and
Baja California (Chap. 7). Willis and Des Lauriers offer a broad view of technologi-
cal patterns revealed in late Pleistocene-aged coastal sites from North and South
America and their implications for early maritime adaptations.
On the other side of the Pacific, Tabarev describes the development and consoli-
dation of salmon fishing in the Russian Far East. Brown et al. and Haws et al. address
the late survival of Neanderthals in Iberian coastal zones and their subsequent
replacement by modern humans, seen in and Manne and Bicho on Southern Iberia.
Gutiérrez Zugasti centers his discussion on the importance of shellfish exploita-
tion in the Bay of Biscay during the Upper Paleolithic. The question of whether
coastal resources were important during the emergence of the Neolithic in Southern
Iberia is discussed by Dean and Carvalho, suggesting that in fact, at least in the
process of neolithization of Portugal, coastal resources were used as frequently as
any terrestrial prey species.
In Part II, chapters by Bonomo, Muñoz, and Stothert on South America focus on
early prehistoric coastal settlement and resource use, giving unequivocal evidence
for the early use of marine mammals, fish, and shellfish. Attenbrow and Ulm pro-
vide similar evidence for southeastern and northeastern Australia, respectively.
Chapters by Marean, Steele and Sealy and Galimberti bestow attention (either cen-
trally or peripherally) to the importance of coastal zones for the emergence and
spread of modern humans around the African continent.
Acknowledgments
We would like to thank all the reviewers who helped to improve the volume and each
paper. We are also in debt to T. Krauss, K. Chabalko and M. Ryan from Springer
Publishers, US, who carried the publication process forward and to B. Sundaramoorthy,
Project Manager, SPi Global, India, who formatted and review the final drafts. We
also would like to thank UISPP and SAA for accepting the proposals of the two dif-
ferent sessions that were the basis for the present volume. Finally, research provided
to Bicho and Haws was possible by funding from Archaeological Institute of America,
Fundação para a Ciência e Tecnologia, Portugal (Grants POCTI/HAR/37543/2001,
REEQ/951/HIS/2005, and PTDC/HAH/64184/2006), National Geographic Society,
National Science Foundation, Wenner Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research,
and to the COST Program (Project SPLACHCOS - COST Action TD0902). Davis
received research support from the Bernice Peltier Huber Charitable Trust, Oregon
Sea Grant, and the Keystone Archaeological Research Fund.
Prologue xxv
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Part I
North America and Eurasia
Chapter 1
The North American Paleocoastal Concept
Reconsidered
Loren G. Davis
Introduction
The Pleistocene archaeological record of North America’s Pacific coast is under-

stood from only a handful of sites that postdate the continent’s earliest interior sites
by at least 500 radiocarbon years. Like other coastal regions of the world, the rea-
sons that early North American Pacific coastal sites are so few in number relate to
late Quaternary environmental history: postglacial marine transgression submerged
older coastal terrains and sites, leaving behind only a small portion of a previously
larger coastal and pericoastal landscape and any sites it might contain (cf. Davis
et al. 2009). Although many early continental sites were also surely destroyed or
concealed by periglacial and postglacial geomorphic processes, few regions, such
as those parts of the Pacific Northwest’s Columbia River drainage that were
affected by the catastrophic outburst floods of Glacial Lake Missoula and Pluvial
Lake Bonneville, share the same extremes of postdepositional history as the world’s
coastal zones. In spite of these difficulties of site preservation, a small number of
late Pleistocene-aged North American Pacific coastal sites are known from British
Columbia to Baja California Sur.
In addition to postdating North America’s earliest interior Paleoindian sites (i.e.,
Clovis cultural components), North American Pacific coastal sites are also much
younger than other key pre-Clovis contenders of the New World’s western margin,
including South America’s Quebrada Jaguay, Quebrada Tacahuay, and Monte Verde
sites (Keefer et al. 1998; Sandweiss et al. 1998; Dillehay 1989; Dillehay et al.
2009), and the Paisley Five Mile Rockshelter site in southern Oregon (Gilbert et al.
2009) (Fig. 1.1). Although the route of initial human entry into the Americas was
traditionally assumed to include a pedestrian migration from eastern Beringia
L.G. Davis (*)
Department of Anthropology, Oregon State University, 238 Waldo Hall,
Corvallis, OR 97331, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
N.F. Bicho et al. (eds.), Trekking the Shore: Changing Coastlines and the Antiquity 3
of Coastal Settlement, Interdisciplinary Contributions to Archaeology,
DOI 10.1007/978-1-4419-8219-3_1, © Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2011
4 L.G. Davis
Fig. 1.1 Map of the New World showing archaeological sites (squares), marine cores (closed
circles; numbers in open circles correspond with reference in key), and islands mentioned in text
southward through a gap between the Laurentide and Cordilleran ice sheets, this
path may not have been available or viable in time to allow humans to arrive at pre-
Clovis sites before 12,400 RCYBP (14,500 cal BP). In this context, a Pacific coastal
route of initial entry is given considerable attention because it has no clear restric-
tions to pre-Clovis human migration (Mandryk et al. 2001). If the First Americans
initially moved south beyond Beringia by skirting the edge of Late Wisconsinan ice
along the shores of modern-day Alaska, British Columbia, Washington, and Oregon,
we should expect that the region will hold archaeological sites that predate 12,400
1 The North American Paleocoastal Concept Reconsidered 5
RCYBP (14,500 cal BP). If the hypothesis that the initial peopling of the Americas
included an aspect of coastal migration is correct, then the northeastern Pacific coast
is a critical area of archaeological concern (Fladmark 1979; Gruhn 1988; Dixon
1999; Erlandson 2002; Mandryk et al. 2001; Goebel et al. 2008); however, at this
time, we possess no knowledge about North American Pacific coastal sites dating
between 12,400 and 10,700 RCYBP (14,500–12,800 cal BP) – the period contem-
poraneous with the earliest evidence of New World human occupation.
The North American Paleocoastal concept has been used to define the earliest
period of human occupation along the northeastern Pacific Ocean shoreline and
provides a salient example of how the early record of North American Pacific
coastal prehistory is conceptualized by some archaeologists (e.g., Davis et al. 1969;
Moratto 1984; Erlandson et al. 1996; Erlandson 2009; Cassidy et al. 2004; Rick
et al. 2005). Although this concept is primarily rooted in archaeological research
conducted in southern California and is based on late Pleistocene to early Holocene
(LP-EH) period archaeological evidence that postdates 10,700 RCYBP (12,800 cal
BP), it is more broadly considered to closely reflect the adaptations employed by
the First Americans, and perhaps even by initial coastal migrants. Despite its
conceptualization as a potential analogy of the New World’s first coastal peoples,
I argue here that the North American Paleocoastal concept is flawed for two main
reasons: first, the concept is based on an archaeological record that is too young to
represent the First Americans; second, the concept is not applied within a full con-
ceptualization of the late Pleistocene environmental context of the eastern Pacific
during the time of initial human entry, and thus, cannot directly inform our under-
standing of the earliest New World coastal adaptations. Instead of being based on
relevant perspectives on early coastal archaeological patterns, our current view of a
North American Paleocoastal adaptation is based on sites with cultural components
that were contemporaneous with postglacial oceanographic conditions, which are
much more relevant to Holocene-aged archaeological patterns. This is a significant
problem that I believe is keeping archaeologists from understanding the adaptive
context of North America’s late Pleistocene-aged coastal environments and the
influence they had on early foraging peoples and their archaeological record. To
resolve this problem, we must improve our knowledge of late Pleistocene oceano-
graphic and pericoastal conditions in ways that contribute information about the
environmental and economic conditions in which the first North American coastal
peoples lived. Toward this particular end, this chapter discusses the contextual basis
of New World Pacific late Pleistocene coastal adaptations by reviewing the archae-
ological record of the earliest North American coastal sites, examines the historical
use of the Paleocoastal concept and gauge its appropriateness, presents a meta-
analysis of late Quaternary environmental conditions of the eastern Pacific Ocean,
and discusses the potential archaeological implications of these conditions as
related to the adaptive context of early North American coastal peoples. Ultimately,
I hope to clear out some of the unnecessary conceptual underbrush that is currently
associated with early North American coastal archaeology so that we might move
forward unencumbered by these theoretical views and develop better models of
Pleistocene period coastal prehistory.
6 L.G. Davis
The North American Paleocoastal Concept

as an Archaeological Construct
Davis et al. (1969) provide the first comprehensive use of the Paleocoastal concept
in North American archaeology, which they define as a coastal variant of their
larger “Western Lithic Co-Tradition” concept. The Western Lithic Co-Tradition
concept provides a synthesis of shared lithic industries seen in late Pleistocene to
early Holocene-aged sites in western North America that notably include the
following: nonfluted stemmed and foliate projectile points, domed scraper planes,
unifaces, crescents, utilitarian ovate bifaces, and informal flake tools produced on
macroflakes struck from unidirectional, multidirectional (i.e., amorphous), and
centripetal cores, and the use of lower quality locally abundant raw materials
present in cobble form (Davis et al. 1969:22–28). Economic variability expressed
in these early sites is considered to reflect the range of cultural activities per-
formed in different environments, extending from the Pacific coast to the interior
desert regions. Davis et al. (1969:9) describe the early Holocene-aged San
Dieguito cultural component from the Harris Site in San Diego County as part of
a “Paleo-coastal Tradition,” not only in part due to its technological patterns but
also apparently due to its age and its close proximity (ca. 10 km) to the Pacific
Ocean.
To Moratto (1984), the Paleocoastal Tradition is primarily defined on the basis
of an economic orientation toward the use of marine resources as evidenced by late
Pleistocene to early Holocene-aged midden sites along the California coastal zone.
Following Davis et al. (1969), Morratto (1984:104) suspects that the Paleocoastal
Tradition shares cultural affinities with the contemporaneous inland-oriented
Western Pluvial Lakes Tradition – an archaeological construct that is similar to
Bedwell’s (1970) Western Lithic Co-Tradition concept due to “Comparable flaked-
stone tool inventories, found throughout southern California between 11,000 and
8,000 BP, [that] evince widespread technological relationships. The coastal mani-
festations are set apart mainly with respect to exploitative practices, settlement
patterns, apparent degree of sedentism (although this has been defined only tenu-
ously), and artifacts other than flaked stone.”
Erlandson (2009) considers Paleocoastal to mean “seafaring Paleoindian”
peoples, based on their interpretation of terminal Pleistocene to early Holocene-
aged (8,600 to ~11,500 cal BP (Erlandson and Jew 2009)) maritime resource use at
Daisy Cave, which is located on San Miguel Island in the Northern Channel Islands
of southern California. Erlandson et al. (1996:370) elaborate on this particular use
of the term:
“Thus, the terminal Pleistocene component at Daisy Cave currently represents
the earliest known Paleocoastal occupation on the California coast. Currently, it
seems most likely that these early maritime peoples were descended from even
earlier Paleoindian peoples who appear to have left Clovis-like fluted points on the
southern California coast (see Erlandson et al. 1987) a millennium or more prior to
the initial occupation of Daisy Cave. Nonetheless, the data from Daisy Cave provide
additional evidence for the relatively early diversification of Paleoindian

economies in western North America.”
In this particular approach to definition, we are readily able to measure the
adaptive aspect of seafaring simply by considering the location of late Pleistocene-
aged sites on islands that were never connected to mainland North America; how-
ever, the Paleoindian aspect is not demonstrated and is in clear contrast to other
descriptions of early Pacific coast cultural patterns. What is meant by the use of
“Paleoindian” in a coastal context? To use a standard definition of the Paleoindian
technological pattern, we should expect to see a distinctive toolkit marked by the
presence of fluted bifacial projectile points, unfluted Llano- and Plano-style
lanceolate projectile points (e.g., Clovis, Folsom, Goshen/Plainview, Agate Basin,
Hell Gap, Cody), extensive lithic reduction of bifacial preforms to produce formal
bifaces, limited use of informal flake tools, and/or prepared macroblade cores
and blades (Stanford 1999), all of which are typically created on high-quality
toolstone materials. In comparison, the Arlington Springs skeleton dated to ca.
10,590 RCYBP (12,685 cal BP – Erlandson et al. 2008; Davis 2009) represents the
earliest dated evidence of human occupation on the Channel Islands; however, we
know nearly nothing about the technological patterns associated with this
individual and cannot otherwise assign a Paleoindian cultural affiliation. Other
younger sites such as Daisy Cave and Eel Point contain lithic assemblages with
bifacial preforms made on macroflakes, gravers, unifaces, reamers, wedges, abraders,
flake drills, and multidirectional, unidirectional, boat-shaped, and microlithic
cores (e.g., Erlandson and Jew 2009; Cassidy et al. 2004). Nothing in these lithic
assemblages clearly indicates the presence of a Paleoindian technological tradi-
tion. The process of invoking a direct evolutionary relationship between Clovis
Paleoindian and later LP-aged coastal cultural components requires a tacit assump-
tion that an ancestor–descendant relationship exists between the bearers of fluted
and nonfluted technologies, which has not been demonstrated to any degree in
early North American Pacific coastal sites.
What, then, about using technology as a defining basis for a Paleocoastal
concept? The review of North American Younger Dryas-aged coastal sites pre-
sented here does not reveal any significantly different technologies or modes of
application that are restricted only to the LP-EH period. Moreover, many techno-
logical elements from these sites are found in both older and younger New World
coastal sites. For example, there’s nothing clearly “paleo” about the early archaeo-
logical components at Daisy Cave, Arlington Springs, and Eel Point. Instead, these
sites show us instances of temporally early (relative to the currently available North
American dataset) exploitation of marine resources in ways that will be closely
repeated into late Holocene times (e.g., Rick et al. 2001). It is unclear how the
technological, economic, or settlement patterns of these sites might be used to
establish a Paleocoastal pattern that is distinctly different from younger cultural
patterns, particularly since their records can be interpreted by direct reference to
ethnographic examples (e.g., Cassidy et al. 2004).
Turning beyond California’s Channel Islands, Paleoindian lithic technologies
are also absent in other early North American Pacific coastal sites, including K1
8 L.G. Davis
Cave (~12,500 cal BP) and Gaadu Din Cave in British Columbia (~12,000 cal
BP – Fedje and Mathewes 2005), Indian Sands in southern Oregon (12,255 cal
BP – Davis et al. 2004; Davis 2009), and Richard’s Ridge on Cedros Island
(12,100 cal BP – Des Lauriers 2006). Instead, these sites bear lithic assemblages
that relate to cultural-historical frameworks reserved for early nonfluted techno-
logical traditions that lack clear evolutionary links to the Paleoindian Tradition
(e.g., Western Stemmed Tradition (Bryan 1980, 1988, 1991; Bryan and Tuohy
1999)) and are more recently argued to represent a larger Paleoarchaic Tradition
in western North America (Beck and Jones 2010; Davis and Willis 2008). While
a small number of fluted Clovis projectile points are known from some parts of
the North American Pacific coast, they have not yet been found in an intact
archaeological context. Regardless, the discovery of a fluted point in any of the
aforementioned early coastal sites would not change the fact that their lithic
assemblages lack technological patterns commonly associated with a classic
Paleoindian chaîne operatoíre (Davis and Willis 2008; cf. Des Lauriers 2006).
The presence of fluted Clovis projectile points in North American Pacific coastal
zones reflects a poorly understood aspect of early coastal prehistory involving
the co-occurrence of Paleoindians and unrelated Paleoarchaic peoples. The rar-
ity of fluted points along North America’s Pacific Coast may indicate that
Paleoindians played a minor role in the region’s initial settlement. For example,
if the distribution of fluted projectile points in the coastal landscape represents
a proxy indicator of Clovis settlement patterns, the low number of fluted points
found along the Pacific coast indicates an extremely limited regional presence,
relative to other areas of North America (Anderson and Faught 2000). The rare
discovery of fluted points could also represent the curation of these items that
were obtained elsewhere and transported to the coast during the LP or afterward
or that only the technological ideas, not the Paleoindian peoples themselves,
spread along the Pacific coast. Thus, the presence of Clovis Paleoindian-style
artifacts along the North American Pacific coast is difficult to fully interpret and
explain, and contrasts sharply with our current understanding of LP-EH coastal
prehistory.
The antiquity of coastal adaptations is sometimes cited as a defining aspect of a
Paleocoastal pattern: “Once a largely hypothetical construct, the existence of a
California Paleo-Coastal tradition (Moratto 1984) is now firmly established by
occupation of the Channel Islands during the Terminal Pleistocene and Early
Holocene (Erlandson and Colten 1991; Erlandson et al. 1996, 1999; Raab et al.
1995). Archaeological data from Early Holocene sites including the information
presented here [from Eel Point] show that maritime cultural traits, including deep-
water seafaring and intensive maritime subsistence practices, have their roots far
deeper in time than traditional models have suggested” (Cassidy et al. 2004:111).
In spite of the fact that the age of early North American coastal sites overlaps
with post-Clovis-aged Paleoindian cultural phases defined from the North
American Great Plains and American Southwest regions, no cultural elements of
the Paleocoastal concept have ever been shown to clearly relate to the North
American Paleoindian Tradition. Thus, we should not consider LP-EH-aged
coastal sites to be exceptional, on the basis that they might retain an ancestor–
descendant relationship with Clovis. Although the antiquity of North American
coastal sites is now known to be far greater than was thought possible only 25
years ago (Erlandson 2002), we cannot consider coastal sites dating to the early
Holocene or terminal Pleistocene to qualify as “Paleocoastal” simply because they
are “old.” In doing so, how has this improved our understanding of early coastal
adaptations? Thus, any conceptualizations of a Paleocoastal period or adaptation
that are based simply on time (e.g., older than 8,000 RCYBP) lack sufficient
meaning and must be avoided. I am guilty of using the term in this way (e.g., Davis
2007). One might argue that, in light of the discovery of earlier coastal sites, we
could just reserve the use of the Paleocoastal label for LP-aged occupations; how-
ever, the process of simply shifting the temporal boundaries of a Paleocoastal
pattern to an earlier time frame does nothing to solve the problem that the term
lacks a requisite degree of clarity and utility.
Basing the Paleocoastal concept on the appearance of marine-oriented economic
activities in coastal zones (e.g., Davis et al. 1969) is a difficult proposition, given
the time transgressive nature of marine adaptations. Research shows that the use of
marine resources in the Pacific Rim may date back to Homo erectus (Choi and
Driwantoro 2007), or at least to the last interglacial period 125,000 years ago
(Deacon and Shuurman 1992; Henshilwood et al. 2001), making this activity sim-
ply a part of the larger history of Homo dispersal throughout the globe (Walters
et al. 2000; Stringer 2000; Erlandson 2002; Bailey 2004). Thus, definitions that
feature the use of marine resource use as the core of a Paleocoastal concept lack
specificity and significance. The fact that the earliest record of human occupation
along the North American Pacific coast is associated with high rates of marine
transgression and subsequent environmental change might be cited as another rea-
son to consider LP-EH-aged cultural components as being Paleocoastal in nature.
This reason, however, is also arbitrary considering that the environmental effects of
marine transgression continued well into the late Holocene period. Might we
instead place special emphasis on those situations where early coastal adaptations
occur in nonanalogous marine environments?
In the case of Richard’s Ridge on Cedros Island, we see the early application of
a non-Paleoindian lithic technology that is more readily related to other LP-EH
technological patterns throughout western North America (e.g., Paleoarchaic,
Western Stemmed Tradition), in the pursuit of marine resources, some of which are
absent from or later are in more limited areas of the local environment (e.g., Pismo
clam and red abalone), during a time when Cedros Island was a peninsular exten-
sion of Baja California. In addition, Des Lauriers (2006) argues that sea turtle hunt-
ing was far more intensive during the LP-EH due to the presence of eelgrass
meadows along protected shorelines that disappeared once rising sea levels sub-
merged the island’s land connection to the Baja California peninsula. Once Cedros
Island became disconnected from the peninsular mainland, its archaeological
records show an extended period of consistent resource use under environmental
conditions that are essentially modern; however, earlier economic patterns, such as
sea turtle hunting, continue through time, although to a limited degree (Des Lauriers
10 L.G. Davis
2006, 2011). Although contextually different than other early North American
coastal sites, even the early cultural components at Richard’s Ridge fail to show us
archaeological elements that clearly demarcate a Paleocoastal pattern on the basis
of dramatically nonanalogous environmental situations or the application of unique
adaptive patterns therein.
To summarize, Davis et al. (1969) and Morotto (1984) define the Paleocoastal
pattern on the basis of its economic and geographic aspects: late Pleistocene to
early Holocene-aged coastal sites showing use of marine resources. In the case
of Erlandson (2009) and Erlandson et al. (1996), defining Paleocoastal as “sea-
faring Paleoindians” seems to suggest the presence of a cultural tradition (sensu
Willey and Phillips 1958:27), which is defined as “temporal continuity repre-
sented by persistent configurations in single technological or other systems of
related forms.” If Paleoindian-style lithic technologies were actually associated
with early North American coastal sites, then it would seem fitting to consider a
Paleocoastal Tradition as a viable conceptual construct, as it would be a dis-
tinctly marine oriented cultural variety of Paleoindian. As it stands, the techno-
logical assemblages associated with New World late Pleistocene-early Holocene
period coastal sites are highly diverse, lacking “persistent configurations,” and
missing elements that are associated with Paleoindian technological patterns
(see Willis and Des Lauriers-this volume). Admittedly, the Paleocoastal concept
is difficult to define on the basis of its material culture, which leads me to won-
der if the concept has utility if aspects of its affiliated sites provide meaningful
analogies for the adaptive patterns practiced by initial New World coastal set-
tlers? To answer this question, we must examine the paleoenvironmental context
of the northeastern Pacific Ocean during the late Pleistocene to early Holocene
period.
Paleoenvironmental Context of the Northeastern Pacific Ocean
Paleoenvironmental information plays a critical role in any evaluation of the timing,

manner, and mode of human entry into the New World. A review of the archaeo-
logical literature reveals that LP-EH paleoenvironmental conditions of the northeast-
ern Pacific Ocean are only generally understood and integrated into archaeological
interpretations (Mandryk et al. 2001), or are not considered to be nominally differ-
ent than those seen during the Holocene. A recent example of the latter statement
is exemplified by the Erlandson et al. (2007) hypothesis that maritime-adapted
peoples entered the New World during the late Pleistocene by following and
exploiting a highly productive kelp forest biome. The authors claim that a “kelp
highway” extended along the northern Pacific Rim from northeastern Asia to west-
ern North America due to the presence of colder oceanic conditions corresponding
to the last glacial period. Erlandson et al. admit that their concept is difficult to
evaluate due to the fact that empirical proxy measures of kelp in LP deposits are not
currently available. Despite these problems, Erlandson et al. offer stimulating new
thinking that demonstrates the importance of considering the human ecological

context of a potential coastal migration into the Americas; however, in order to
understand the human ecological context of North America’s Pacific coastal envi-
ronments, we need empirical information that informs us about past ocean condi-
tions, particularly related to late Quaternary marine productivity and its potential
economic implications for early coastal foragers. What paleoceanographic evi-
dence is currently available and what does it tell us about the early human ecology
of the northeastern Pacific Ocean?
Late Quaternary period marine records are available from sediment cores col-
lected from offshore areas of British Columbia, Canada to Baja California Sur,
Mexico. Of these published marine records, some studies reveal proxy indicators of
northeastern Pacific Ocean biological productivity covering the last glacial to
Holocene period (Fig. 1.2). These marine records were selected because they pro-
vide different yet convergent indicators of oceanic productivity that can be related
to the human ecology of the northeastern Pacific margin during the LP-EH. Each
of the proxy records is described in turn, followed by a discussion of their larger
implications for early human ecology.
Vancouver Island
McKay et al. (2004) examine the deposition of terrestrial and marine organic matter
in a core located offshore of Vancouver Island. Accumulation of terrestrial organic
matter was high during the late glacial period, but marine organic matter was rela-
tively low before 14,300 cal BP, signaling greatly reduced primary production due
to diminished upwelling effects. This pattern changed during the Bølling-Ållerød
interval (14,700–12,900 cal BP), as a dramatic increase in marine organic matter
marked an increase in marine productivity. Marine productivity returned to late
glacial conditions during the Younger Dryas interval (12,900–11,500 cal BP).
Indications of higher productivity levels marking interglacial marine conditions
appeared by 11,000 cal BP.
Oregon Coast
Pisias et al. (2001) studied radiolaria and pollen frequencies in marine sediment
cores collected along the Oregon coast, which led them to conclude that upwelling
was significantly reduced prior to ca. 15,000 cal BP and also during the Younger
Dryas interval. Radiolaria assemblages reflecting modern upwelling conditions do
not appear until after the Younger Dryas interval. Analysis of pollen assemblages
reveals a strong correlation between the abundance of coastal redwood pollen and
upwelling-sensitive radiolaria assemblages. This correlation is interpreted as
revealing the operation of onshore fog produced during summer upwelling, upon
12
Vancouver Island Oregon coast EBC Radiolarian Northern California Santa Barbara Basin Magdalena Margin
Marine Organic Carbon Assemblage Variance Alkenone SST Site 893A Bioturbation index Baja California Sur
(McKay et al. (2004) [Core W8709A-13PC] (Barron et al. 2003) (Cannariato et al. 1999) [Core GC31]
(Pisias et al. 2001) (Ortiz et al. 2004)
Decreased Increased
Carbon (wt%) Upwelling Upwelling SST (°C) Massive Laminated DSR Factor 3
Age
Archaeological Sites 0 1
(ka cal BP)

2 −0.2 0 0.2 0.4 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 4 3 2 −2.5 −1.5 −0.5 0.5 1.5 2.5
Eel Point (~8k) 8 8 8
9 9 9
10 10 10
Interglacial
11 11 11
Daisy Cave (~11.5 k)
Gaadu Din Cave (~12.0 k) 12
Younger 12 12
Richard’s Ridge (12.1 k)
Dryas
Indian Sands (12.3 k)
K1 Cave (~12.5 k) 13 13 13
Quebrada Tacahuay (~12.7 k) Bølling-
Quebrada Jaguay (~13.0 k) Ållerød 14 14 14
Monte Verde-II (~14.5 k)
Late 15 15 15
INITIAL COASTAL MIGRATION?
Glacial
16 16 16
Fig. 1.2 Correlation of northeastern Pacific paleooceanographic proxy records, early coastal sites, and proposed cultural periods for the period between
16,000 and 8,000 cal BP. Proxy records were redrafted from original sources and rescaled by Davis. Shaded portions mark periods with lower marine
productivity
L.G. Davis
which coastal redwoods depend. The authors model offshore Ekman transport
(i.e., upwelling) along the northeastern Pacific coast between 30 and 46° north
latitude (Pisias et al. 2001), to understand the degree of change in summer and
winter required to produce their observed biological proxy indicators. Their model
shows that Ekman transport was only 33–50% of modern values from the last
glacial maximum to the Younger Dryas period, whereas winter upwelling shut off
(i.e., switched to downwelling) in coastal areas north of 42° latitude during the
same late Pleistocene period.
Northern California
In their examination of marine microfossil tracers (alkenones) and pollen assem-

blages from core ODP 1019, which is located offshore of the California–Oregon
state border, Barron et al. (2003) establish a proxy sea surface temperature record
spanning the last 16,000 calendar years. This record indicates late glacial and
Younger Dryas temperatures reached below 8°C, which are 3–4°C cooler than
modern conditions. By 11,500 cal BP, temperatures had quickly risen back to
warmer Bølling-Ållerød levels and achieved modern values by 11,400 cal BP.
Santa Barbara Basin
Cannariato et al. (1999) relate the occurrence of different sedimentological

structures in a 60,000 year long sediment core sequence from southern California’s
Santa Barbara Basin to benthic biological activity. The presence of laminated sedi-
ments is linked to the presence of low-O2 concentrations in deep ocean waters that
limit biological activity of burrowing animals. The cause of the low-O2 conditions is
vigorously debated and attributed to three different processes: decreased mixing of
oxygenated surface waters into deeper parts of the North Pacific region (i.e., ventila-
tion) (e.g., Duplessy et al. 1989; Kennett and Ingram 1995; Ahagon et al. 2003), high
respiration of organic carbon (and subsequent consumption of O2) in the presence of
intense upwelling (Mix et al. 1999; Stott et al. 2000), or alternatively, by the pres-
ence of enhanced trophic productivity farther upcurrent in the northwest Pacific
(Crusius et al. 2004), which contributed oxygen-depleted and nutrient-poor waters
at intermediate depths along North America’s western coast. Cannariato et al. (1999)
interpret the Santa Barbara Basin sedimentary record to reflect patterns of north
Pacific ventilation; however, following the conclusions of the Stott et al. (2000)
study, which is based on direct historical observations of southern California marine
conditions and their products in twentieth century Santa Barbara Basin sediments,
I consider the Santa Barbara Basin lamination record to reflect the differential
operation of upwelling processes during the late Quaternary. In this case, biotur-
bated sediments are produced as upwelling is weakened under late glacial and
14 L.G. Davis
Younger Dryas conditions. This interpretation also agrees with the record reported
by Pisias et al. (2001) that suggests strengthened upwelling occurred along the
southern Oregon coast during the Bølling-Ållerød and after the Younger Dryas.
Keigwin and Jones (1990:1020) identify a more complex and complicated process
that could involve multiple, seemingly contradictory interpretations, but ultimately
point to reduced marine productivity: upwelling of deep, nutrient-poor waters would
produce laminated sediments and low productivity as well.
Magdalena Margin
Ortiz et al. (2004) studied a high-resolution marine core spanning the last 52,000
calendar years taken from the Magdalena Margin, which is located near the south-
ern tip of the Baja California peninsula to the west of La Paz, Baja California Sur,
Mexico. Their analysis revealed a strong correlation between the diffuse spectral
reflectance and marine carbon content of cored marine sediments. Ortiz et al.
(2004:523) argue that this record reveals a history of marine productivity that was
“drastically lower during past cool stadials and the Last Glacial Maximum than it
was during the Holocene and past warm episodes.”
Contextual Implications
These marine records indicate exceptionally low marine productivity during the late
glacial and Younger Dryas periods, relatively increased productivity levels during
the Bølling-Ållerød interval, and a shift to modern levels during the post-Younger
Dryas interglacial period in environments stretching along the northeastern Pacific
Ocean region from British Columbia to Baja California Sur.
Although the proxy indicators of low marine productivity during cold periods of
the late Pleistocene are described above, what systemic factors contribute to the
onset of this ecological state? In their review of the history of eastern Pacific coast
geoecological and evolutionary processes since the Miocene, Jacobs et al. (2004:5)
provide an answer to this question:
“Despite the higher wind regime characteristic of maximum glacial conditions,
productivity associated with upwelling was commonly reduced during glacial
times. Regional and more distant factors that influence upwelling intensity (e.g.,
Palmer and Pearson 2003) as well as the variable nutrient content of feedstock
waters (e.g., Berger and Lange 1998; Loubere 2002) have been implicated as the
causes of this difference between glacial and interglacial times. Arguments invoked
to explain this phenomenon provide a set of plausible mechanisms that modulate
upwelling and can be used to infer causes of changes in the upwelling regime at
other times in the Neogene. It seems reasonable that the high-pressure regime
and upwelling intensity along the West Coast would be influenced by the glacial
conditions on the North American continent. Ice sheets extended as far south as
southern Washington and Idaho, displacing the track of the polar front southward
and extending its activity through more of the year (e.g., Kutzbach 1988). Glaciers
were present in the Sierra Nevada, and there was substantial lake area in the West
during the Pleistocene. All of these factors would have limited the summertime
differences in temperature between land and sea, and/or the placement and stability
of the summertime high pressure.”
How might these observed reductions in upwelling during the late glacial to
Younger Dryas period have affected the marine ecology of the northeastern Pacific
Ocean? Because the significant biological effects associated with El Niño-Southern
Oscillation (ENSO) climate events are due in large part to a reduction in the upwell-
ing of cold, nutrient-rich water along the eastern Pacific coast, they provide an
analogy useful for our current discussion. Pearcy and Schoener (1987) provide
quantitative estimates of the effects of reduced eastern Pacific Ocean upwelling
associated with the 1983 ENSO event on eastern Pacific Ocean primary productivity:
“The average density of zooplankton off Newport, Oregon, during the spring and
summer of 1983 showed a 70% reduction compared with non El Niño years (Miller
et al. 1985). Zooplankton biomass was reduced by roughly half off Vancouver
Island, British Columbia, during July 1983 (Seften et al. 1984).” Although warmer
waters and northward movement of southern species also contributed to lower
overall biological productivity during 1983, Pearcy and Schoener (1987) note sig-
nificant reductions in the populations of marine fishes and seabirds along Oregon’s
coast, and “disastrous” declines in anadromous fisheries due to negative changes in
primary marine productivity. If the reduction in upwelling strength and nutrient
delivery to the upper water column observed along the North American Pacific
coast by Pisias et al. (2001) was accompanied by biotic effects more or less similar
to that of historically observed ENSO events, then the northeastern Pacific Ocean
probably exhibited a significantly different ecology during the LP-EH, compared to
its modern (i.e., post-Younger Dryas) state.
Considering the complex history of eastern Pacific Ocean environmental condi-
tions described here, the assumption that cold water represents the only requisite
conditions for the development of a “kelp highway” appears to oversimplify the
actual situation. Kelp require both cold and nutrient-rich waters (Hernandez-
Carmona et al. 2001), the latter not present in the northeastern Pacific during the last
glacial and Younger Dryas periods due to an interruption of the Ekman transport
process (Jacobs et al. 2004). By contrast, the great expansion of kelp forests envi-
sioned by Erlandson et al. (2007) appears only to be possible during warmer periods
of the late Quaternary associated with stronger upwelling cycles, including marine
isotope stage (MIS) 5e (ca. 125,000 years ago), perhaps at a more reduced level dur-
ing the Bølling-Ållerød (14,700–12,900 cal BP), and most clearly during the post-
Younger Dryas interglacial period (12,900–11,500 cal BP; Jacobs et al. 2004). Since
the end of MIS 5e, oceanographic conditions analogous to those seen during the
modern period, which support extensive northeastern Pacific kelp forests, are limited
to the post-Younger Dryas period. As Fig. 1.2 illustrates, the northeastern Pacific
Ocean was cold but nutrient poor during long periods of time between 16,000 and
16 L.G. Davis
11,500 cal BP (except for the Bølling-Ållerød oscillations), which contributed to

diminished levels of trophic productivity in marine ecosystems during some parts of
the late Pleistocene period. These five marine studies suggest that the levels of
upwelling required to support highly productive northeastern Pacific Ocean kelp
forests did not exist until after Clovis peoples spread into North America. Kelp for-
ests may have been present in some form during part of or the entire Bølling-Ållerød
interval, but it appears very unlikely that the ancestors of the peoples who created
the Monte Verde II component and the earliest occupation evidence at Paisley Five
Mile Rockshelter ever saw much less travelled along a “kelp highway.”
Exactly how these different oceanographic conditions of the Late Glacial,
Bølling-Ållerød, and Younger Dryas intervals affected a maritime-based cultural
adaptation in North America’s Pacific coastal region is unclear, largely because our
preinterglacial (>11,500 cal BP) archaeological record mainly comprises sites with
hunting-oriented components (K1 Cave, Gaadu Din Cave, Indian Sands) and only
a single example of marine resource use (Richard’s Ridge) (Fig. 1.2). The emphasis
on hunting reflected in most North American coastal sites dating to the Younger
Dryas interval should not be taken at face value and interpreted to mean that marine
resource use was an unimportant economic pursuit prior to the interglacial period;
pericoastal and coastal hunting activities are assumed to be an integral aspect of
early coastal adaptations, but not exclusively so (Des Lauriers 2006; Davis and
Willis 2011), and are arguably easier to discover in the modern coastal landscape,
which typically lacks late Pleistocene-aged shorelines and their associated littoral-
focused archaeological sites. Moreover, sites reflecting early use of what were
previously interior coastal environments should be preserved in the modern coastal
environment and more readily found than LP-aged littoral exploitation sites (Waters
1992; Davis et al. 2009). The current view of Younger Dryas interval marine
exploitation from the Richard’s Ridge site provides unequivocal evidence that early
North American coastal foragers were well adapted to their marine environments,
while the other sites from this period clearly indicate hunting proficiency. Together,
these sites reveal a more complete perspective on early coastal adaptations.
The presence of humans at the Monte Verde site in coastal Chile by 14,500 cal
BP (Dillehay 1989) sets a benchmark for considering the timing and contextual
implications of an initial migration into the Americas. If humans arrived at the
Monte Verde site by way of a Pacific coastal migration that began 1,000 years or
so earlier than the age of the Monte Verde II (MV-II) occupation, then the first
coastal migrants may have trekked southward under Late Glacial conditions at
ca. 15,500 cal BP. If the MV-II occupants took only 500 years to move from
Beringia to Chile, then their migration occurred close to the onset of oceano-
graphic changes associated with the Bølling-Ållerød interval after ca. 15,000 cal BP,
but before 14,500 cal BP. If an initial coastal migration began during the Late
Glacial period, the First Americans would have encountered Pacific Ocean
environments with greatly reduced upwelling cycles and subsequently lower
marine productivity, relative to conditions present after ca. 11,500 cal BP. Coastal
migration that occurred during the Bølling-Ållerød interval probably encountered
conditions of somewhat higher marine productivity not precisely the same as seen
during Holocene interglacial times, but improved from the Late Glacial period.
Following Erlandson et al. (1996:370), if a New World coastal entry occurred “a
millennia or more prior to the initial occupation of Daisy Cave,” then humans
would be forced to contend with a return to marine environmental conditions
bearing dramatically lower productivity during the Younger Dryas period.
Regardless, if humans entered and spread throughout the New World by way of
a Pacific coastal migration route, then they did so during times when the north-
eastern Pacific Ocean’s environments were quite different than those associated
with the post-Younger Dryas Interglacial Period – the time in which we know the
most about coastal adaptations. In light of these observations, we must reevaluate
both the basis upon which the North American Paleocoastal concept is founded
and whether it continues to serve our needs.
Toward a Contextual Model of Early New World

Coastal Prehistory
Why can’t we simply look to our currently available set of early North American
coastal sites to inform our understanding of the first coastal migrants? The fact
that humans were present in coastal South America about 2,000 calendar years
before we first see evidence of their cultural occupation in North American
coastal zones, and that they encountered marine environments that were markedly
different than the post-Younger Dryas interglacial conditions present throughout
the northeastern Pacific Ocean region, requires us to reevaluate the assumptions
upon which our views of early North American coastal prehistory are based.
Simply put, the LP-period paleoenvironmental record of the New World Pacific
coast was a moving target, and we cannot expect to uncover a universal
Paleocoastal pattern of coastal adaptation from any one site. Post-Younger Dryas-
aged North American coastal sites offer important perspectives on the manner in
which humans used maritime resources during the interglacial period, but they do
not reveal an adaptation to the nonanalogous coastal conditions that were present
before 11,500 cal BP. Instead, coastal sites dating to the interglacial period reflect
human adaptation in environments with different levels of marine productivity
than compared to the Late Glacial and Younger Dryas intervals. By 11,500 cal BP
and afterward, early coastal peoples would have been able to exploit changes in
the state of marine ecosystems fed by the return of nutrient-rich upwelling water,
which was absent during the Younger Dryas interval. If the initial period of
human entry into the America coincides with the occupation of the MV-II com-
ponent at Monte Verde, or even with the earliest occupations at Meadowcroft
Rockshelter and Paisley Five Mile Rockshelter, then we are seeking archaeologi-
cal sites and associated paleoenvironmental data spanning the Late Glacial,
Bølling-Ållerød, and Younger Dryas chronozones. To date, we have not yet found
North American coastal sites that date to the time of Clovis (13,100–12,850 cal
BP) or even predate 12,500 cal BP.
18 L.G. Davis
After considering the range of coastal adaptations seen in LP-aged archaeological

sites from the New World Pacific coast, I cannot see how we might redefine the
Paleocoastal concept on the basis of time, technology, economy, or settlement to
establish an all-inclusive conceptual framework for LP-period coastal prehistory.
Although it might be tempting to organize early North American coastal archaeol-
ogy in a way that seeks to highlight an ever-increasing record of technological or
economic complexity (e.g., Rick et al. 2002), we should avoid the application of
linear, progressive evolutionary models and seek, instead, to identify the total range
of human behaviors as performed in time and space, which will contribute toward
a richer, multilinear evolutionary view of New World coastal prehistory.
Based on the points raised above, I argue that the North American Paleocoastal
concept is inherently flawed and should be discontinued from use. As I attempt to
show here, and as others describe throughout this volume, there are many different
cultural adaptations that were practiced in the context of varying marine environ-
ments during the LP-EH. As we learn more about the early coastal record of the
New World, it is quite clear that there is no single set of adaptive elements or
strategies that were exclusively employed at any one time, which might be used
to define or redefine the parameters of a Paleocoastal concept. Considering this,
I strongly recommend that we leave the Paleocoastal concept behind us and move
forward by adopting a neutral organizational framework that enables both dia-
chronic and synchronic comparisons of archaeological evidence across micro (i.e.,
local), meso (i.e., regional), and macro (i.e., continental, hemispheric, global)
scales. A sufficient degree of theoretical neutrality is achieved simply by organiz-
ing early North American and New World Pacific coastal sites into already estab-
lished geologic chronozones of the Late Glacial (>14,500 cal BP), Bølling-Ållerød
interval (14,500–12,900 cal BP), Younger Dryas interval (12,900–11,500 cal BP),
and Holocene Interglacial period (11,500–7,000 cal BP) (Fig. 1.2). In addition to
being able to accommodate the full range of archaeological variability on an
interpretation-free basis, this approach avoids the problem of reconciling differ-
ences in marine ecology from region to region, which are central to the discussions
featured here and are unlikely to show synchronicity along the eastern Pacific
Rim. Using this framework also encourages us to think about the actions of early
coastal peoples in their particular environmental contexts, which might help to
explain differences in New World coastal prehistory throughout the LP period.
Although archaeological sites in coastal North America do not yet predate the
Younger Dryas interval, paleoenvironmental data are available from the period
between ca. 15,500 and 12,500 cal BP and enable us to consider the human ecologi-
cal context of earlier LP-aged marine environments. Working from an evolutionary
framework that assumes the LP archaeological record of economic, logistical, and
technological aspects will, at some level, reflect human behaviors conducted to
address opportunities and constraints that were present in their contemporaneous
marine ecosystems, we can expect that because the pre-11,500 cal BP ecological
context of the eastern Pacific Ocean was significantly different than the post-11,500
cal BP period, its associated archaeological record will also be different than that
seen during the Interglacial Period. Just as early Holocene-aged Archaic adaptations
of the American Southwest are not applied to interpret the regional Clovis
Paleoindian adaptive pattern, evidence from interglacial period coastal sites cannot
be expected to directly inform us about the exact manner in which the First
Americans used marine environments and their resources. Therefore, we must first
carefully consider the archaeological record within the context of each chronozone
before we should seek to define new overarching theoretical frameworks of cultural
interpretation.
We have not yet seen New World coastal sites that date to the Late Glacial
period (>14,500 cal BP); however, we should expect to find them if the MV-II
peoples traveled to Chile by way of a coastal migration route. Paleoenvironmental
records show greatly reduced levels of marine productivity along the northeastern
Pacific during the Late Glacial period, similar to conditions present during the
Younger Dryas interval. And because marine conditions were significantly different
during the later Bølling-Ållerød interval, at the time of the MV-II occupation, the
adaptive patterns expressed in the MV-II component may not necessarily reflect
those employed in the context of the Late Glacial Period. The archaeological
record of the Bølling-Ållerød interval (14,500–12,900 cal BP) is represented by
the South American sites of Quebrada Jaguay, Quebrada Tacahuay, and Monte
Verde (Keefer et al. 1998; Sandweiss et al. 1998; Dillehay 1989; Dillehay et al.
2009). These sites show the use of a very limited set of marine resources, including
anchovy, drum fish, crustaceans, some mollusks, and seaweeds, which is atypical
to the post-Younger Dryas period pattern of marine zone use that generally
includes a much broader resource base with a diverse set of shellfish and fish
species. The discovery of cordage in these South American sites may point to the
earliest use of fishing nets in the New World, an application of a specialized tech-
nology, to be sure. The MV-II component shows a more limited use of marine
resources but notably includes the remains of seaweed that were procured from the
Pacific Ocean, which is considered to indicate a deep traditional ecological
knowledge of marine environments and their products (Dillehay et al. 2009). The
Younger Dryas period (12,900–11,500 cal BP) includes the Quebrada Tacahuay
and the Richard’s Ridge sites, which demonstrate clear but divergent orientations
to marine resource expoitation, along with the more pericoastal K1 Cave, Gaadu
Din Cave, and Indian Sands sites. Whereas the Quebrada Tacahuay site shows a
more specialized use of the marine environment, probably involving the use of nets
to capture anchovy (which may also reflect a task-specific pattern in an otherwise
richer marine setting), Richard’s Ridge includes the remains of a broad range of
invertebrate and fish species along with a well-developed nonfluted/non-Paleoindian
foliate projectile point industry that was probably used to hunt marine mammals
and sea turtles. Although northeastern Pacific proxy records indicate a significant
reduction in upwelling-driven marine productivity during the Younger Dryas
interval, the record from Richard’s Ridge does not clearly indicate foraging in the
context of a productivity downturn but may instead demonstrate that a greater
degree of local environmental variability, caused by the operation of localized
factors (e.g., the interplay of local bathymetry, terrestrial physiography, and marine
currents during lower sea level), worked to buffer negative effects of Younger
20 L.G. Davis
Dryas climatic conditions across the northeastern Pacific at this time. Certain areas
of the New World Pacific coast, by virtue of inherent local characteristics, may
have exhibited higher productivity marine environments during times when other
coastal areas of the northeastern Pacific were suffering the effects of reduced
marine productivity (cf. Yesner 1987). If so, then these “marine oases” were probably
most attractive to the coastal peoples of the eastern Pacific and might ultimately
retain the earliest evidence (i.e., Late Glacial) of coastal adaptations in the New
World. Given its unique oceanographic setting, the discovery of intact Younger
Dryas-aged and earlier period sites from the Channel Islands may ultimately
reflect this pattern as well. Finally, early coastal sites postdating the Younger Dryas
(£11,500 cal BP) exhibit technological, environmental, and subsistence aspects
that persist unchanged much longer into the Holocene and appear to reflect the initial
development of an Archaic coastal pattern, sensu Ames and Maschner (1999).
Conclusion
A review of LP-EH paleoceographic records from the northeastern Pacific reveals

a complex marine productivity history with cold climatic periods that correspond
to significantly reduced productivity levels at the lowest trophic levels. Considering
that fluctuations in lower trophic productivity trigger great effects on the upper
levels of the marine food chain, this record is directly relevant to discussions of
early New World coastal adaptations due to its bearing on archaeologically measur-
able aspects of technology, economy, and settlement patterns. The underlying
conceptualization of a North American Paleocoastal concept is questioned, and a
new organizational framework based on theoretically neutral chronozone subdivi-
sions is offered in its stead.
The marine environmental record spanning the Late Glacial to Holocene
Interglacial Periods is complex and highly dynamic, exhibiting tremendous changes
not seen during the past 11,500 calendar years. Late Quaternary marine records
indicate that northeastern Pacific Ocean environments exhibited, at times, condi-
tions of lower productivity; however, I do not believe that this means that the New
World Pacific coast could not support human migrants during the late Pleistocene
period. It probably means that the earliest evidence of New World coastal occupa-
tion will reveal adaptive strategies based on relatively sophisticated toolkits and
approaches that enable them to successfully exploit marine and terrestrial environ-
ments alike. Considering that human use of coastal environments occurred in the
Old World much earlier than humans are clearly present in the New World, we need
not expect that the First Americans experienced significant difficulty in learning
how to apply their imported traditional ecological knowledge and technological
systems to the coastal and pericoastal environments of the eastern Pacific margin.
While this chapter offers new perspectives on the environmental history of the
North American Pacific coast, it is important to emphasize that we do not fully
appreciate how these paleoenvironmental conditions directly related to the human

ecology of the First Americans. Therefore, it would be premature to say that a
coastal migration would have been more difficult under Late Glacial or Younger
Dryas interval environmental contexts. That we have found coastal archaeological
sites dating to the Younger Dryas interval is clear indication that humans were
able to survive and thrive in the context of lower marine productivity. That we
ever assumed LP-aged marine environments of the northeastern Pacific should
always be highly productive and were somehow exempt from the environmental
perturbations seen in contemporaneous terrestrial records is a myth that has been
destroyed here.
Having made progress toward attaining a more detailed understanding of late
Quatenary paleoceanographic conditions of the northeastern Pacific Rim, it is only
natural to raise questions about the utility of the North American Paleocoastal
concept, which is based on sites with dated evidence that resides in the middle of
the larger temporal span of New World coastal prehistory. Clearly, one would
expect that anything with a “paleo” moniker should be at the older end of a
cultural historical sequence (if “paleo” should be used at all), or at least be related
in significant ways to the earliest cultural periods. The discontinuity between the
assumed relevance of the currently available early coastal dataset (e.g., the Daisy
Cave or Eel Point sites offer critical analogies for the initial New World coastal
adaptations) and the current paleoceanographic synthesis presented in this chapter
(i.e., late Pleistocene period marine environments are not analogous to post-
Younger Dryas period paleoceanographic conditions) cannot be ignored. Thus, as
we learn more about the environmental context of the late Pleistocene-aged New
World coastal zone, it has become clear to me that theoretical models that propose
to have defined the cultural patterns of the earliest coastal peoples on the basis of
existing knowledge are absolutely wrong and must be changed or abandoned. Not
knowing how to fix the Paleocoastal concept, with its many conceptual problems,
I suggest that we simply move forward by adopting a neutral approach to cultural
historical reconstruction.
Although I have only briefly mentioned the recent work of Canadian archaeolo-
gists to elucidate the early prehistory and human ecological context of coastal
British Columbia, we should emulate the style of their excellent interdisciplinary
methodological approaches (e.g., Fedje and Mathewes 2005) as a centerpiece of
future research into the late glacial to early Holocene archaeological record of
North America’s coastal zone, with a particular emphasis on developing high-
resolution records of marine environmental conditions. I hope that the discussion
of late Pleistocene period marine environmental history presented here stimulates
new thinking about the characteristics, processes, and archaeological implications
of a complex and dynamic northeastern Pacific ecological context during the
LP-EH. We desperately need archaeological models that incorporate existing and
new information about late Pleistocene marine ecology if we are to make meaningful
progress toward understanding what remains a vastly uncharted aspect of New
World prehistory.
22 L.G. Davis
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Chapter 2
Prehistoric Archaeology Underwater: A Nascent
Subdiscipline Critical to Understanding Early
Coastal Occupations and Migration Routes
Amy E. Gusick and Michael K. Faught
Introduction
Awareness of and interest in the role that coastlines and coastal adaptations played
in the development and dispersal of anatomically modern humans have grown over
the last few decades. Scattered evidence for marine exploitation between 125,000
and 12,000 cal BP has been identified in Africa (Henshilwood et al. 2001; Singer
and Wymer 1982; Walter et al. 2000), Eurasia (Stiner 1999; Straus et al. 1993), and
North America (Erlandson et al. 1996). Yet, robust archaeological evidence for
coastal activities accrues worldwide predominantly after 10,000 cal BP (Des
Lauriers 2005; Dixon et al. 1997; Dunbar 1997; Erlandson 2002; Glassow et al.
2008; Jacobsen 1973; Keefer et al. 1998; Sandweiss et al. 1998; Stothert 1985).
This relatively late appearance of clear-cut evidence for early coastal exploitation
has been used to propose that early humans had little interest in coasts until stressed
to seek less productive resources (Yesner 1987). Conversely, many researchers
argue that the paucity of identified coastal sites dating to earlier times is more likely
a result of our inability to locate these sites, rather than a lack of interest in coasts
and coastal resources by early humans (Dixon 2001; Erlandson 2001; Kraft et al.
1983). Numerous Pleistocene age coastlines were deeply submerged during the
postglacial period of eustatic sea level rise; and in areas such as the Northwest
Coast of North America, isotastic rebound outpaced sea level rise, leaving
Pleistocene coastal landscapes miles inland from current shorelines. These factors
conspire to make locating Pleistocene landscapes difficult, and identifying
preserved sites on those landscapes, a challenge.
While factors affecting visibility of coastal sites have a global impact on archae-
ological research, the submersion of North American coastlines due to eustatic sea
level rise presents a particularly significant obstacle in clarifying New World
archaeological migration models and chronologies. Although the exact manner and
A.E. Gusick (*)
Department of Anthropology, University of California, Santa Barbara,
CA 93106-3210, USA
28 A.E. Gusick and M.K. Faught
timing of an initial human migration into the New World remain in discussion
(Adovasio et al. 1978; Barton et al. 2004; Bradley and Stanford 2004; Faught 2008;
Gruhn 1988), a Pleistocene Pacific coastal migration has been hypothesized to have
occurred before 13,000 cal BP, when sea levels were lower than today (Dixon 2001;
Faught 2008; Fladmark 1979; Mandryk et al. 2001; Waters and Stafford 2007).
Accurate modeling of the initial or any later coastal migration and the full range of
settlement patterns employed by early peoples are complicated by the submersion
of coastal habitats and the archaeological evidence they contain.
Today, the increased need to identify coastal adaptations and other early sites in
submerged contexts in the New World has led researchers to obtain additional data
from submerged continental shelf settings. Recent advancements in oceanography
(e.g., sound underwater imagery and accurate Differential Global Positioning
System (DGPS) mapping, to be discussed) and developments in industry (e.g.,
precision dredging and resource mining methods) combine to provide researchers
with increasing abilities to explore submerged prehistoric archaeological sites in
marine environments. While the search for these submerged prehistoric sites is a
nascent endeavor, marine submerged prehistoric archaeology can offer a method to
investigate more fully coastal environments and their importance to past human
development. Current researchers focus mostly on paleolandscape reconstruction
and location of paleoshorelines surrounding the western hemisphere that may offer
more evidence of New World Pleistocene coastal migration and early habitation
sites (Adovasio and Hemmings 2009; Evans et al. 2007; Fedje and Christensen
1999; Fedje and Josenhans 1999; Faught 2002, 2004; Gusick and Davis 2010a,
2010b; Josenhans et al. 1995; Pearson et al. 1986).
Our purpose in this chapter is to organize our experiences, and those of others,
to expose some principles and ideas concerning how best to conduct prehistoric
archaeology underwater. These principles and ideas are both intuitive and practiced
and integrate culture histories, sea levels, paleolandscape, and predictive modeling
methods, as well as knowledge of the kinds of equipment that can be integral to
identifying archaeological evidence in a marine context. Our goal is to move sub-
merged prehistoric archaeology from a nascent discipline within archaeology to a
viable research method considered for most studies conducted in coastal areas.
Background to Submerged Prehistoric Underwater Archaeology
Underwater archaeology gained a place within academic archaeology in the 1960s

with the underwater excavation, mapping, analysis, and publication of several Bronze
Age shipwrecks in the Mediterranean (Bass 1966, 1967; Throckmorton 1970). Bass
and his colleagues at the time (Dumas, du Plat, Frost, and Throckmorton) showed that
mapping and excavations underwater could be controlled, that fragmentary ship
remains were still useful for study, and that the analysis of ship building techniques
and shipwreck trade assemblages could be valuable data for historians, classical
archaeologists, and anthropologists (Gould 2000; Muckelroy 1978, 1980).
2 Prehistoric Archaeology Underwater 29
The underwater archaeology of submerged prehistoric sites is following a path

somewhat similar to that of shipwreck archaeology; however, interest in developing
specific methods for the underwater archaeology of prehistoric sites has begun to
grow within the last few decades. Submerged freshwater prehistoric sites have been
known since the nineteenth century in various lakes and rivers; yet, theory building,
research, and publication necessary to develop predictive models and accumulate
examples for open ocean submerged prehistoric sites did not start to accrue until
the 1980s (Bailey and Parkington 1988; Gifford 1983; Hoyt et al. 1990; Masters
and Flemming 1983; Stright 1990).
Prehistoric sites submerged in marine environments represent a special genre of
underwater archaeological sites, with increasing numbers of examples of published
research projects and a growing list of sites found by focused research. Recent stud-
ies into submerged terrains have found that excavations and mapping can be accom-
plished, that reworked sites remain valuable resources, and that archaeologists and
anthropologists can use data collected from marine submerged sites to expand their
knowledge of past settlement ranges and migration paths (Faught 2004; Master and
Flemming 1983).
Worldwide, there are several important examples of marine submerged Early
and Middle Holocene age archaeological sites studied by archaeologists (Fischer
1995; Flemming 1983). The best examples are found in low energy brackish water
sediments containing Mesolithic age artifacts (8,000–5,000 cal BP) submerged by
Holocene sea level fluctuation in Denmark and Germany (Andersen 1987). In the
Mediterranean, off the coastline of Israel, Middle Holocene age stone structures
and refuse deposits, including an early olive processing facility, have been exca-
vated and studied (Galili and Weinstein-Evron 1985). Earlier sites are also known
from marine contexts, but they are more rare. Petroleum geologists discovered
Mousterian artifacts in 17 m of water north of Cherbourg, France (Scuvée and
Verague 1988). This site, Fermanville, has produced 2,500 pieces of chipped stone
(including tools and debitage) indicating Middle Paleolithic (Mousterian of
Acheulean Tradition) artifacts in possible terrestrial sediments. Other early marine
submerged site representatives include hand axes indicating Lower Paleolithic age
reported from Table Bay, South Africa (Werz and Flemming 2001).
Turning to projects in North America, there are several examples of marine inun-
dated prehistoric archaeology along the Pacific and Atlantic coasts and in the Gulfs of
Mexico and California. Pacific Coast projects include the use of marine remote sensing
tools for paleolandscape reconstruction (Josenhans et al. 1995, 1997), testing with grab
samples and coring in Hecate Strait (Fedje and Josenhans 1999) and in the Gulf of
California (Gusick and Davis 2010a, 2010b), subbottom profiling and water dredge
excavations in Middle Holocene age deposits at Montague Harbour in British Columbia
(Easton and Moore 1991), and geoarchaeological studies focused on predictive model-
ing off of the Oregon coast (Davis et al. 2009) and the Northern Channel Islands
(Garrison 2000). Additionally, over 2,000 mortars and other ground stone artifacts have
been found offshore in Southern California since 1915 (Masters 1983, 1996).
Research in the Gulf of Mexico and off the Atlantic coast has focused on sub-
bottom profiling and side scan sonar to reconstruct channel configurations and to
identify anomalies for further testing; and coring or excavating to test sediment
packages in order to locate paleo- and archaic-age sites (inter alia Adovasio and
Hemmings 2009; Blanton and Margolin 1994; Evans et al. 2007; Faught 2002, 2004;
Fillon 2006; Garrison 2006; Merwin 2006). The methods used in marine contexts have
also been successfully applied to underwater research in the Great Lakes (O’Shea
and Meadows 2009) and in the Damariscotta River (Leach and Belknap 2007).
The methodological approaches used by North American researchers revolve
around geoarchaeologically based reconstructions of evolving Late Pleistocene and
Early Holocene coastal paleolandscapes and paleoenvironments. By effectively
combining environmental reconstructions with bathymetric surveys and local settle-
ment patterns, these researchers have delineated survey areas with high archaeo-
logical potential. As will be discussed below, many of these projects show that
mapping and reconstructing the locations of paleodrainage and paleolandscape
features, and seeking out preserved sediment beds, are effective tools in predicting
where to look for archaeological sites in local settings.
Principles and Methods
In the 1960s, oceanographers J.O. Emery and M. Edwards of the Woods Hole
Oceanographic Institute realized the great potential for marine inundated prehistoric
archaeological research along the Eastern seaboard, and they theorized about the
kinds of data that would be needed to find submerged sites (Emery and Edwards
1966). They proposed four guidelines that are still useful today, (1) determine the
local sea level history, (2) assess site preservation potentials, (3) assess relevant
cultural time periods of local human occupation, and (4) know the functional range
of sites which might be expected (Stright 1990, p. 439).
Recent research has expanded on these principles and added various technologies
that allow for more refined predictive modeling of archaeological site locations.
Advancements have also been made with the excavation of prehistoric sites in a
marine inundated context. While some methods are borrowed from shipwreck
archaeology, many are unique to marine inundated prehistoric archaeology, and
certainly resemble modified versions of terrestrial archaeological methods. Although
there is not yet a textbook on field methods in marine inundated prehistoric archae-
ology, the methods that will be described below have proven effective in locating
submerged prehistoric archaeological material in various marine contexts throughout
North America.
Paleolandscapes
Reconstructing the paleolandscape underwater is integral for identifying locales

with high archaeological potential. Determining morphological characteristics
such as river channels, bedrock depressions, or complex topographic features may
indicate biologically productive areas such as riparian environments, estuaries,

rocky headlands, or rocky intertidal habitats. Navigation charts can be effective for
identifying general areas for survey in deeper water. Faught (2002) digitized the
recorded depth points from a navigation chart to reconstruct the PaleoAucilla chan-
nel system, which was then refined with subbottom profiler data. For their work on
the Florida Middle Grounds in the Gulf of Mexico, Adovasio and Hemmings
(2009) focused their survey efforts on relict embayments and possible paleoshore-
lines in the 40–120 m depth range, which they located by using a sea depth chart
and knowledge of previous research conducted in the region (Faught 2002).
Though navigation charts may work for identifying larger formations or general
survey areas, identifying smaller landforms and features, and specific potential
locations for sites, demands more precise and abundant data. Areas with a slight
increase or decrease in relief, which may not be indicated on a navigation chart,
can signal the presence of smaller landscape features that may have been central
to prehistoric economic and habitation activity. Features such as steep slopes,
smaller rock outcrops, or shell middens are usually integral to the economy of
coastal hunter-gatherer groups and may be too small to identify without high-
resolution bathymetry.
A great example of finding and sampling potential paleolandscapes comes from
British Columbia. Building on the knowledge that favorable Late Pleistocene age
terrestrial environmental contexts remained under the immediate waters of Haida
Gwaii, British Columbia, Fedje and colleagues have employed swath bathymetric
data (very high resolution bathymetric data) to model the drowned landscape in
Hecate Strait and then incorporated high-resolution subbottom profiling and side
scan sonar surveys to locate submerged terrestrial landforms for core sampling
(Fedje and Josenhans 2000; Josenhans et al. 1995, 1997) (Fig. 2.1). This approach
has also proven effective along Florida’s Gulf coast, where numerous researchers
rely on side scan sonar and subbottom profiler images to select survey locations that
appear analogous to the settings of local terrestrial prehistoric sites (Adovasio and
Hemmings 2009; Faught 2002, 2004) or to select specific features for coring
(Evans et al. 2007).
While these methods of remotely sensed data collection are extremely effective
and efficient, they require specialized equipment and can be expensive. More
economical approaches have proven to be effective, but also more time consuming.
Gusick and Davis (2010b; see also Faught and Gusick 2011) reconstructed a
submerged landscape in the southern Gulf of California by gathering bathymetric
data in a nearshore context using a Garmin GPS 76 receiver and a consumer
fathometer. These data were imported into ArcGIS and were used to build a sea
floor digital elevation model (DEM) that was merged with terrestrial elevation
data in order to reconstruct the paleolandscape at 12,000 cal BP. This model was
detailed enough to identify a paleoriver channel, steep slope areas with rock shelters,
and areas of concentrated positive relief (Fig. 2.2).
On the northwestern coast of North America, Davis et al. (2009, p. 344) used
available bathymetric data, hydrological projections, estimates of surficial geology,
and solar insulation to develop a predictive model with ArcGIS that quantified
32
Fig. 2.1 Left image shows large area of glacially overdeepened basin with end moraine to east and river delta(s) to south (Heiner Josenhans, Geological
Survey of Canada). Right image is detail (50 m contour) of area in white box showing model of Huxley Island environs at ca. 11,500 BP. The landscapes
surrounding and between Moresby Island, Huxley Island, and Burnaby Island up to Juan Perez Sound were subaerial during prehistoric times. Today, only
the three islands are subaerial landmasses (Daryl Fedje and Patrick Bartier, Parks Canada)
A.E. Gusick and M.K. Faught
2 Prehistoric Archaeology Underwater
Fig. 2.2 Paleolandscape model depicting a section of landscape in Baja California at 12,000 BP. Survey areas depicted are currently submerged.
Each area includes depth below current sea level and the time that a SCUBA diver would be able to remain at each depth.
33
Fig. 2.3 GIS-based model developed by Davis et al. (2009) to predict the location of submerged
late Pleistocene-aged sites (15,500–13,500 cal BP) on the central Oregon continental shelf
submerged areas on the paleolandscape with the highest resource potential for
early foraging populations (Fig. 2.3). Though both of these methods produced only
predictive models and did not provide a high-resolution sea floor map, they did
provide a reasonably accurate model of the sea floor and were effective in narrowing
down areas that warranted further study on an otherwise enormous submerged
paleolandscape.
Sea Level History
Although a paleolandscape model provides the morphology with which to consider

past environments and geological formations, the local sea level history must be
considered in order to accurately define the chronology of prograding paleolan-
dscapes. Many coastal Pleistocene shorelines were inundated by eustatic sea level
rise (Fairbanks 1989; Peltier 2002), and their depths can be mapped by following a
generalized regional sea level curve; however, coastlines directly affected by glacia-
tion typically present a complex interplay between tectonic, eustatic, and isostatic
change and may show a drastic departure from a generalized sea level curve
(Stright 1995). This situation has been well documented for Pacific coastlines in
Haida Gwaii on the northern Northwest coast of North America. Much of this
landscape was greatly affected by glaciation, resulting in “significant difference in
the timing and limits of sea-level position” (Fedje and Christensen 1999, p. 637;
Clague 1983; Josenhans et al. 1997). Additionally, McLaren et al. (2007, p. 2) have
identified shorelines in Haida Gwaii that were “isostatically depressed as a result of
glacial loading during the last glacial maximum, resulting in Late Pleistocene sea
levels that were higher than today, leaving relict shorelines inland” rather than
deeply submerged. This research illustrates the necessity of using local geologic
history to determine if factors such as ice loading, uplift, or tectonic activity may
have played a significant role in regional sea level history.
Culture Histories, Adaptation to Environments,

and Behavioral Regularities
While paleolandscape models can provide researchers with means of identifying

landforms that are considered integral to general prehistoric economy and habita-
tion, knowledge of local cultural histories will elucidate population dynamics,
chronologies and settlement patterns, adaptive behaviors, and diagnostic artifacts
that are archaeologically sensitive in a regional context. Population dynamics refers
to the abundance, or lack thereof, of sites of different time periods relevant to
offshore settings, and the research on settlement patterns refers both to modeling
missing resource or habitation zones, as well as adding to local understanding of
the archaeological record.
Understanding local cultural systems and specific adaptations to both environ-
mental and social pressures will provide insight into the types of material that can
be expected to occur in preserved archaeological sites within various regions. Of
course, one typical assumption regarding sites on a coastal landscape is that they
will progressively show more faunal evidence of coastal adaptations the closer
they are to the shoreline; however, not all sites located on submerged coastal land-
scapes will necessarily present clear indications of marine exploitation. While
many pre-8,000 cal BP Pacific coastal sites yield the remains of marine resources
(Erlandson 1994; Erlandson and Colten 1991; Glassow 2006; Glassow et al. 2008;
Kennett 2005; Rick et al. 2001, 2005), contemporaneous sites in the Southeast, both
terrestrial and submerged, have only produced evidence of terrestrial subsistence
(inter alia Clausen et al. 1979; Driskell 1996; Dunbar et al. 1988; Webb 2006).
Therefore, marine inundated prehistoric archaeology demands that archaeologists
be knowledgeable about the local or regional prehistory, thus enabling them to
know what they are looking for; what they are finding; and where to integrate the
findings into local prehistoric reconstructions, settlement patterns, and
chronologies.
Current underwater research in North America is shaped around knowing local
human behavioral patterns that can provide defined guidelines for identifying
locales considered high-potential for submerged cultural remains in the context of
local cultural behaviors. Settlement patterning in the Northeast suggests that

prehistoric groups exploited and processed eastern oyster (Crassostrea virginica),
leaving traces of this activity close to natural oyster bioherms. Current archaeological
investigation in the Damariscotta River in Maine focuses on identifying and
sampling relict oyster bioherms, which have been preserved in marine sediment, in
an attempt to locate cultural shell middens (Leach and Daniel 2006). Another
inventive use of local cultural knowledge, though not in a marine setting, is found
in research conducted in the Great Lakes. O’Shea and Meadows (2009) have identi-
fied potential caribou drive lanes (stone structures used for caribou hunting) that
have been submerged beneath Lake Huron. These types of linear stone structures
have previously been identified in a terrestrial setting and are associated with
prehistoric and ethnographic caribou hunting. By framing their research around
a local cultural activity that occurs on a specific type of landscape and leaves
definite, identifiable evidence, they were able to narrow their search area and identify
a unique submerged cultural site.
Preservation Potential and Processes
Even armed with an accurate paleolandscape model that presents features known to
be important within the local culture history, the probability that archaeological
remains may be preserved must be predicted and assessed. There are, of course,
numerous factors in a marine context that can be detrimental to the preservation of
submerged remains; however, there are contexts in which preservation potential can
be considered favorable (Flemming 1983; Stright 1995). An ideal study area must
exhibit a morphology that is not only biologically productive and attractive for
habitation but also shows physical constraints that allow for preservation and acces-
sibility (Fedje and Christensen 1999, p. 650). For instance, coastal caves and rock-
shelters have proven to be ideal locations for early mobile hunter-gatherer
occupation (Erlandson 1993; Erlandson et al. 1996; Dixon et al. 1997; Fujita and
Poyatos de Paz 1998; Gruhn and Bryan 2002; Fedje et al. 2004) and these recesses
may provide protection from wave and tidal action in a submerged environment
(Inman 1983). Regions in which structural contexts result in shallow bays can limit
the amount of site disturbance from tidal action or storm surges, and supplementary
protection from wave energy is also found on the leeward side of coastal islands and
within archipelagos (Flemming 1983, p. 138). Coastlines with gently sloping
continental shelves, particularly in locales with reduced wave action, would have
been quickly inundated during sea level rise, promoting rapid sedimentation and
therefore protection of archaeological sites from environmental elements. In fact,
the anaerobic environment that can exist in the seabed is favorable for preservation
of organic material (Dean et al. 1995, p. 31; Muckelroy 1978, p. 52).
Underwater research efforts in North America reflect the importance of identify-
ing areas with high preservation potential. The protected bays within the archipelagos
along the northern Northwest Coast have been the focus of dedicated paleolandscape
modeling and archaeological sampling, resulting in the identification of submerged

cultural material (Easton and Moore 1991; Fedje and Josenhans 2000; Fedje and
Christensen 1999; Josenhans et al. 1995). Projects in the Gulfs of Mexico and
California have benefited from the gently sloping bathymetry of the continental
shelves in many areas of these regions and from the reduced wave energy typical of
gulf contexts (Adovasio and Hemmings 2009; Evans et al. 2007; Faught and Gusick
2011; Gusick and Davis 2010b). Additionally, Faught’s (2002) work in the Gulf of
Mexico relies, in part, on identifying submerged karst features, as these are known
from local terrestrial settings to contain preserved archaeological evidence.
Even in regions with numerous conditions favorable for preservation, geologic,
hydrologic, and oceanographic changes that have occurred over the past 15,000
years may have greatly affected the preservation of archaeological material. For
instance, while the geomorphology of eastern Pacific coastal environments, with
rocky shores and deep basins, provides enclaves and rockshelters that can act to
protect archaeological remains, the formidable wave action in this area of the world
can erode away sea cliffs and cut terraces (Inman 1983), possibly destroying
evidence of prehistoric occupation. In areas with reduced wave action such as the
Gulfs of Mexico and California, site preservation may be more probable than
those areas exposed to the open ocean, but the frequent hurricanes that occur in
these regions may destroy or alter the location of submerged remains.
An additional consideration is sedimentation rates. Although sedimentation can
aid in preservation, the amount of sediment that accumulated during marine trans-
gression can be massive, resulting in deeply buried terrestrial surfaces. Punke and
Davis (2006, p. 336) have identified Pleistocene landforms in the Pacific Northwest
that are buried beneath the 28 m of fine- to course-grained sediment that has been
deposited over the last 10,000 years. The depth of sediment covering a terrestrial
surface can be difficult to determine without obtaining sediment core samples;
however, images generated from a subbottom profiler can provide an indication of
sediment cover. Use of this remote sensing equipment will be discussed below.
Survey Methods
The processes of narrowing down targeted features to those most favorable for
investigation considering the paleolandscape, paleoenvironment, sea level history,
cultural history, and preservation potential aid in determining general areas con-
sidered to have high-potential for preserved archaeological remains. This informa-
tion is important when developing an effective underwater survey design, as
location and depth of targets will determine the type of survey necessary for effica-
cious investigation. Additionally, marine inundated prehistoric archaeology can be
time-consuming and costly; therefore, developing a survey design focusing first on
those areas considered to have high-potential for archaeological remains can
greatly increase productivity and maximize time and expenses.
Remote Sensing Survey: Sound Underwater Imagery
Searching submerged landscapes for prehistoric sites and artifacts is more than a
challenge. Areas to survey are extremely large; and discovery of small objects
(i.e., stone, bone, or wood artifacts) is akin to finding little needles in gigantic
haystacks. Few sites will be exposed for surface collection, although they do exist
(Faught 2002, 2004). Consequently, it is timely that digital mapping of large areas
of the sea floor bottom, and remote probing of the sediment beds below, is currently
possible because of technological advancements in remotely sensed sound under-
water imagery and precise, integrated DGPS locational controls.
Four instruments based on sound underwater imagery form the basic tools to
reconstruct sea floor morphology. They are differentiated by the frequency of sound
beamed out and complexity of the return signal processing equipment. Images
collected from these instruments can be used to model the local paleolandscape and
focus additional research on higher potential areas (Table 2.1).
Subbottom profiling is surely the most important remote sensing device for
prehistorians interested in submerged sites because it can inform on bottom
morphology, sediment cover depths, and paleochannel configurations. Subbottom
profiling, in the sense of sound propagation (dynamite early on) and study of
Table 2.1 Remote sensing technologies

Technology Common uses Comments
Subbottom Identify infilled-channels Range: 0.9–34 kHz
profiler Determine marine sediment Chirp systems scan multiple frequency
cover returns
Identify buried features Uses low frequency seismic sound
waves to penetrate sediment beds
to create images
Can indicate changing sediment density
Fathometer Determine sea floor morphology Range: 50–200 kHz
(low-resolution) Use in conjunction with GPS
to reconstruct large areas of seafloor
gross morphology
Multibeam sonar Determine sea floor morphology Uses multiple sound beams
(high-resolution) Creates detailed sea floor map
Side scan sonar Identify surficial features Range: 100–1,200 kHz
100–300 kHz is for wide swath, low
precision
400–1,200 kHz is for narrow swath,
high precision
Uses sound waves to reconstruct
images of the bottom, including
objects and texture
Good for exposed paleolandscape
settings
Good in fresh water rivers
Fig. 2.4 Subbottom profiler image showing reconstruction of part of the PaleoAucilla. Depression
indicated by arrow on right is the sediment infilled paleoriver channel
reflective images, has been used since the 1930s to study geologic strata in marine
contexts (Schlee 1978). More recent archaeological uses include collection of
subbottom data to map channel systems in order to identify high probability areas
for archaeological sites. Pearson et al. (1986) reconstructed a portion of the
PaleoSabine, and Faught and Donoghue (1997) used subbottom data and early
GIS technology to reconstruct a detailed portion of the PaleoAucilla and
PaleoOklochoknee River channel system of the Big Bend of Florida (Fig. 2.4).
Additional research in the Gulf of Mexico used subbottom data to identify an in-filled
paleoriver channel east of the Florida Middle Grounds (Adovasio and Hemmings
2009). Off the Pacific Coast, Easton (1993) used a subbottom device at Montague
Harbour, and Josenhans et al. (1995, 1997) used high-resolution subbottom profiler
surveys to confirm submerged channel-ways identified by multibeam sonar in
Hecate Strait.
In addition to interest in channel systems, subbottom profiler data is used to
locate positive relief features that may be shell middens or early (nearshore) mounds.
Faught (2008) identified one positive relief feature with a subbottom profiler in
Tampa Bay, but diver investigation showed it to be a remnant bed of Sangamon-aged
marine shell. The feature was a “pile of shell,” but was not cultural. On the other
hand, Evans et al. (2007) are testing possible shell midden features identified with a
subbottom device in the northwestern Gulf of Mexico. Initial sampling indicates
that the features are indeed middens that contain brackish shell of the appropriate age
to have been culturally deposited when the landscape was subaerial.
Other sonar devices that are effective in mapping seafloor morphology are
multibeam sonars (Swath echosounders) and fathometers. These echosounders
are designed to measure bathymetry and can be very effective in identifying larger
sea floor features. Fathometers show depths to sea floor from a single, narrow
sound beam, while multibeam sonars determine fine precision bathymetry over
large swaths of seabed. Data from the multibeam can be used to create quasi-
photographic, but three-dimensionally manipulable reconstructions of seabed
morphology akin to DEMs. The lower cost fathometer option will not be as precise,
but when used in conjunction with GPS data, a lower resolution model can indicate
gross morphology (Gusick and Davis 2010b). Fedje and Josenhans (1999) employed
Fig. 2.5 Side scan image collected from Gulf of Mexico. Rocky outcrop in bottom center of
image. Bottom left is rock outcrop covered in sediment. During diver investigation, these areas
yielded cultural material
high-resolution multibeam data to illustrate the drowned paleolandscape in

Hecate Strait, and from these data were able to identify paleo-beaches, -terraces,
and -fluvial confluences.
Finally, we get to the side scan sonar. While regularly used in shipwreck archaeol-
ogy, side scan sonar technology is useful to prehistorians where paleolandscape fea-
tures are exposed or recognizable on the bottom. They can be useful in riverine
settings, in finding lag deposits, raw material outcrops, or possibly caves. For
instance, Faught (2002) used side scan sonar equipment in a drowned karst setting to
locate rock outcrops in the Big Bend area. The resulting diver investigation con-
firmed that a portion of these rock outcrops yielded cultural material (especially those
near Paleofluvial features, cf. Fig. 2.5). In other applications, Adavasio and Hemmings
(2009) used side scan sonar to identify near-shore sand ridges in association with
the Late Glacial Maximum Coast, and Gusick and Davis (2010a) used the technology
to identify possible fish weirs and relic beach features in the Gulf of California.
On the Seafloor Bottom: Surveying, Testing, and Sampling
Once the “haystack” has been sorted out and high probability targets for study
have been identified, direct observations in the field are most important. Virtual
visits to underwater settings with sufficient visibility are possible with a remotely
operated vehicle (ROV). Use of this equipment is well known in shipwreck inves-
tigations, but their full utility in submerged prehistoric site investigation is only
now being determined. Current archaeological applications include underwater
video documentation and collection of more recognizable images of features iden-
tified by subbottom or side scan operations (Adovasio and Hemmings 2009).
Features derived from the sonar equipment can be difficult to positively identify;
therefore, collecting clear ROV images aids in determining if a feature should be
investigated more thoroughly with a dive operation. This kind of technology is
important to be developed for working in water deeper than 60 ft., as the amount
of time a diver can remain at these depths is limited.
Although virtual site visits are possible, direct diver survey remains the most
effective method for obtaining samples, for investigating targets more thoroughly,
and for positively identifying cultural material. With SCUBA, divers breathe
compressed air from a tank, or supplied from the surface with hoses. Experienced
divers can dive deeper and stay longer by breathing mixtures of gases (increased
oxygen, helium, or nitrogen mixtures), but these are not for the novice. In general,
diving in depths less than 30 ft., is particularly easy and not time restricted, but the
time a diver can remain underwater gets shorter with increasing depth and there are
severe time restrictions on SCUBA diving deeper than 100 ft. It is at these greater
depths that gas mixtures or closed-circuit rebreathers (CCR) are useful.
Fundamentally, the time underwater is always limited when compared with the
way terrestrial archaeologists would spend getting to know their site. If a site is
deeply submerged, an underwater archaeologist may only be able to work 3 h/day
at the site. Prehistorians accustomed to ample time to draw strata and observe in the
field should internalize this fact and learn to embrace and communicate specific and
attainable goals for each season and each dive.
Effective sampling at a submerged archaeological site is another task that tends
to be a bit more challenging than at a terrestrial site. Massive infield gridding, as
often done on land, is a luxury underwater. It is often the case that sampling under-
water takes place from central datum points from which collection transects can be
sampled at regular intervals. Artifacts or other objects can be recorded by distance
and bearing measures. Likewise, collection areas can be quadrilateral, but taking
the time to set up a grid with actual pins on the bottom may not be the most efficient
use of bottom dive time.
Coring remains the most useful way to collect sedimentary data and can be
done relatively easily in an underwater context. Pearson et al. (1986) used a dense
pattern core sampling project to test features and strata located with seismic records
in order to identify terrestrial landforms in an area of the PaleoSabine River in the
Gulf of Mexico. They were successful in identifying a probable midden at a
considerable depth. Once a site can be identified, increased numbers of cores in
tight patterns can be useful to determine the extent of sediment beds or boundaries
of a site; however, cores are not usually effective in finding artifacts, and therefore
in identifying sites, simply because the sample area is so small. That being said,
Easton (1993, p. 9) collected a series of core samples from throughout the basin in
Montague Harbour, British Columbia, that were effective in identifying stratified
midden deposits as well as a “depositional sequence of basal clays, terrestrial soils,
and marine sands.” Additionally, Gagliano et al. (1982) used geoarchaeological
point count methods to identify anthropogenic sediment characteristics at known
terrestrial sites. These data were then used to identify submerged sites by comparing
characteristics within sediment from cores collected from probable inundated
anthropogenic deposits.
Another approach to subsurface testing, if the paleolandscape is not buried

too deeply with marine sediment, is hand fanning. Equivalent to shovel testing
terrestrially, divers can take samples at predetermined intervals by hand fanning up
to a meter or more into unconsolidated sediments and collecting specimens
(Muckelroy 1978, p. 28). Faught (2002, 2004) used hand fanning to good effect in
a drowned karst environment in Florida, and Gusick and Davis (2010b) report its
effectiveness in Baja California.
Once a site has been identified in a submerged setting by previous coring and/
or hand fanning techniques, there are multiple devices for controlled excavation
(Table 2.2). For small excavations, both airlift and hydraulic dredges have proven
effective (Fig. 2.6). The effluent ends of these dredges can be brought to the surface
for screening, or screened underwater (Fig. 2.7). Easton and Moore (1991) used an
airlift device to excavate 1-m test units in a submerged deposit in Montague
Harbour, and hydraulic dredges have frequently been used to dig test pits and
excavate identified sites in various locales in the Gulf of Mexico (Dunbar 2006;
Faught and Latvis 2001).
Table 2.2 Sampling technologies

Technology Common uses Comments
Core tube Sediment sampling Can be diver-operated (see Bonem and Pershouse
Vibra-cores Feature testing 1981; Jones et al. 1992; Horlings 2009 for
Piston cores Site boundary testing inexpensive and portable versions designed
Hand-pounded to utilize pressure from a SCUBA tank)
Usually small diameter, 3 in. or less common
Not great for finding artifacts
Can collect intact deposits
Hand fanning Subsurface testing Move a fair amount of unconsolidated sediment
Not good for sites with significant marine
sediment cover
Can recover artifacts in situ
Induction dredge Site excavation Diver-operated
Marine sediment removal Uses hydraulic action
Good for shallow depths (less than 20 ft.).
Gasoline pump, dredge head, and hoses are
heavy, cumbersome and loud
Can excavate large areas
Air lift dredge Site excavation Diver-operated
Marine sediment removal Uses compressed air released at the hose opening
Works well in deeper water, but needs high
pressure compressor
Lightweight in water
Can excavate large areas
Industrial dredges Sediment sampling Not diver-operated
Hydraulic Site sampling Cumbersome and cannot be diver-operated.
Hydraulic dredges powered by gasoline
(or diesel) engines
Clamshell Clam shell and bucket dredges are heavy pieces
Bucket of equipment typically used in industrial
dredging projects
Fig. 2.6 Underwater excavation unit showing retention of unit wall. Excavation accomplished
with use of hydraulic dredge
Industrial strength excavation devices include a bucket dredger, a grab dredger

(clam shell dredge), and various types of induction dredges with large diesel
engines and turning digger heads to loosen sediments. Bucket and clam dredges can
collect several cubic meters at a time and can be effective for larger samples to
determine if a controlled site excavation is necessary. Although dredging methods
may seem less than desirable since they homogenize their sample volumes, they
can be very useful for removing large units of sediment, and they can sample
enough material to actually find artifacts. For instance, Fedje and Josenhans (1999)
conducted sampling with an industrial-sized dredge on a terrestrial landform
submerged 55 m off Hecate Strait. The sample material was screened on deck and
led to the recovery of a stone tool.
After Collection
Maintaining the inundated state in which an artifact was discovered will prevent
desiccation, thereby reducing salt crystallization, which is extremely detrimental to
the stability of artifacts. Faught (1996) discusses the deterioration of chipped stone
from marine environments and emphasizes the need to flush artifact materials with
fresh water for long periods to completely remove any salt. The mantra “keep it
wet” is important for preservation of organic materials or stabilization of lithic
materials. It is best to keep the material submerged in water that is continually
refreshed. The only exception to this is in the case of material for radiocarbon dat-
ing. These items should be desiccated as soon as possible, as prolonged immersion
enables organic growth, and chemicals to prevent such growth have potential prob-
lems with radiocarbon calculations.
Fig. 2.7 Image showing effluent end of hydraulic dredge dumping into a screen being monitored
topside
Conclusions
Most important to underwater exploration in the New World, the examples listed
throughout this paper illustrate the utility of employing systematic approaches to
the location and sampling of offshore archaeological sites (see Flemming 1983;
Geddes et al. 1983; Kraft et al. 1983; Masters 1983). The accomplishments to date
in methodological development and research into submerged environments are
extremely promising. By effectively combining information on environmental
reconstructions with bathymetric surveys and knowledge of coastal settlement
patterns, innovative archaeologists have developed and will continue to develop
newer and more effective methods for the study of submerged sites within their
paleolandscape context. Our attempt to bring these efforts to light and to help move
prehistoric marine archaeology into mainstream archaeological research is only
part of what will undoubtedly be a long process. Strengthening the role of under-
water archaeology as part of early coastal sites research would not only be
extremely advantageous for research into the initial human migration into the New
World but would also benefit any archaeologist investigating an ancient landscape
that has been partially or fully submerged, no matter the time period of interest.
While we do feel it is important for archaeologists working in a coastal environ-
ment to consider the seascape when developing project methods, there are areas in
which the cost and time of conducting underwater studies may exceed the expected
outcomes. Yet, there are thousands of miles of inundated coastline surrounding
North America that do have the potential to yield prehistoric archaeological sites,
but are largely unexplored. The inundation of these coastlines should not be a
barrier that prevents researchers from collecting data that may help to evaluate
major issues within archaeology. Indeed, coastal landscapes and the resources they
provide have influenced some of the most significant developments in human
history. Our ability to explore more fully these developments has been expanded
through dedicated research focused on coastal landscapes. While much of this
research has been terrestrially based, underwater paleocoastal research is rapidly
becoming a viable and integral field in Anthropology. Our ability to more fully
understand the behaviors of early maritime peoples, including the timing and nature
of the peopling of the New World, may very well depend on locating data that has
been submerged for the last 15,000 years.
Acknowledgments We would like to thank Nuno Bicho, Jonathan Haws, and Loren Davis for
inviting us to contribute in this volume. Heiner Josenhans, Daryl Fedje, Patrick Bartier, and Loren
Davis kindly shared their images for inclusion in our chapter. Ruth Gruhn, Alan Bryan,
Loren Davis, and Michael Glassow provided helpful critiques and edits.
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Chapter 3
Early Environments and Archaeology
of Coastal British Columbia
Quentin Mackie, Daryl Fedje, Duncan McLaren,

Nicole Smith, and Iain McKechnie
Introduction
Coastal British Columbia is largely a rugged fjord-land archipelago. It has not always
been so – over time, the coastline has changed configuration dramatically and the
fauna and flora have seen multiple successions and extirpations. Through this, for the
last 11,000 RCYBP years at least, resilient people made their living from the ocean
and the land, shrugging off or taking advantage of environmental change. Similarly,
archaeologists have worked the nooks and crannies of the coast for decades, surveying
in the dense forest and digging in the deep middens, subject to similar environmental
conditions as those they study and making quiet progress in regional culture histories.
In more recent years, this area has been thrust to the forefront of research into the First
Peopling of the American continents. As the Clovis First model began to be ques-
tioned, alternate modes and routes for the arrival of humans were brought in from the
sidelines, including the hypothesized west coast route (e.g. Fladmark 1979). Not
much research had been focused on this route, perhaps as Easton (1992) suggests,
because of the terrestrial mindset of many archaeologists. Perhaps also, the prospects
of finding sites on the deeply drowned landscapes or in the rugged, heavily forested
hinterland was prohibitively daunting and led to a pessimistic outlook on success. In
the last decade, this pessimism has slowly turned to a more optimistic outlook, as
advances in remote sensing technology, radiocarbon dating, benthic sampling, and
archaeological survey methods have demonstrated that the ancient land is know-
able, had people on it, and that their archaeological record is recoverable (e.g.
Erlandson 2001; Erlandson et al. 2005, 2007, 2008; Faught 2004; Fedje et al. 2004a).
In this chapter, we review the environmental and archaeological data from the terminal
Pleistocene and early Holocene. We then describe some recent advances in methods
for finding early archaeological sites, including case studies showing successes and
prospects for the future. We then turn attention to three difficulties archaeologists may
need to address if they are to further advance knowledge of the Pleistocene BC
Q. Mackie (*)
Department of Anthropology, University of Victoria, Victoria, BC, Canada
52 Q. Mackie et al.
coast: the heterogeneous and dynamic nature of the coast must be appreciated; appro-
priate ethnographic analogies must be developed; and a humanistic appreciation of
the processes by which people first arrive on a landscape must be employed.
Review of Palaeoenvironment
Archaeologists need to be very sensitive to the dynamic environment of post-glacial

Pleistocene and early Holocene coastal British Columbia. Without a fine-grained
understanding of the dramatic yet subregionally specific environmental changes, it
would be difficult or impossible to find and interpret sites dating to this earliest
period of human occupations. The following sections review some of the more
significant palaeoenvironmental events and trends, with case studies to illustrate
smaller areas within the BC Coast.
Sea-Level History
Unlike un-glaciated regions such as the California and Oregon coast where late
Pleistocene shorelines are deeply drowned beneath modern sea levels (see “Global
eustatic” curve in Fig. 3.1), the glacially influenced NW Coast offers an array of
opportunities to locate late Pleistocene archaeological sites and target the adaptation
of humans at relatively narrow temporal windows.
Sea-level histories are very localized phenomena on the Northwest Coast as a
result of tectonic change associated with proximity to tectonic plate boundaries, the
isostatic effects from the various ice loading and unloading events on an area with
highly variable crustal thicknesses, and global eustatic change (Clague et al. 1982,
1983; Riddihough 1982; Fairbanks 1989; Fedje et al. 2005b). The net results of
these processes are significantly different histories, even in areas of relatively
close proximity (Fig. 3.1, Table 3.1). Table 3.1 provides a general history of shore-
line position through time for select areas of the B.C. coast. These positions are
known from a variety of sediment basin cores, both marine and terrestrial (Fig. 3.2)
and from sections and basal peats. Working from this, we can obtain a preliminary
understanding of the logistical constraints to investigating aspects of the early
human use of the coast, illustrated through the following three case studies.
Case Studies
Haida Gwaii
The sea-level history of the region around Haida Gwaii is the most refined record for
the BC Coast. Work in northern Hecate Strait on the eastern side of Haida Gwaii
shows that the strait was open and ice-free before 14,380 RCYBP and that sea levels,
3 Early Environments and Archaeology of Coastal British Columbia 53
Fig. 3.1 Selected BC sea-level histories South Salish Sea (Fedje et al. 2009), Prince Rupert and
Southern Haida Gwaii (Fedje et al. 2005b), Dundas Islands (McLaren 2008)
specifically in that area, were lower than 30 m below modern from at least
14,330–12,860 RCYBP (Lacourse et al. 2005). At 12,500 RCYBP, relative sea
levels in southeastern Haida Gwaii and adjacent Hecate Strait were 150 m below
modern (Fedje et al. 2005b). Levels in this area began to rise slowly ca. 12,000 RCYBP
and sharply after ca. 11,000 RCYBP reaching a transgressive maximum 15 m
above modern at 8,900 RCYBP. Relative sea levels remained at 15–14 m above
modern until 5,000 RCYBP and have fallen slowly since that time (Fig. 3.3).
This relative sea-level history provides the basic framework for investigating
shoreline occupation sites from late glacial through to Holocene time. By combining
high-resolution sea floor mapping with air photo or lidar-derived terrestrial data,
models can be prepared and palaeo-landforms assessed as to archaeological poten-
tial and logistical constraints.
Fraser Valley – Stave Lake
The lower Fraser River drainage area on the southwestern mainland of BC was
almost completely covered by glacial ice at the height of the Vashon Stade of the
Fraser Glacial period, approximately15,500–15,000 radiocarbon years ago
(Armstrong 1981). The advance of glaciers during the Vashon Stade began 17,000
radiocarbon years ago, after a short 1,000 year interglacial period, forcing most
54
Table 3.1 Shoreline position relative to modern for select locations

Radiocarbon years ago (×1,000)
14.5 13.5 13.0 12.5 12.0 11.5 11.0 10.5 10.0 9.0 8.0 7.0 6.0 5.0
Calendar years ago (×1,000)
See Fig. 3.1 Region 17.4 16.0 15.3 14.6 13.9 13.4 12.9 12.5 11.4 10.2 8.9 7.8 6.8 5.7 References
1 Haida Gwaii Below Below Below −150 −150 −130 −120 −100 −50 +14 +15 +15 +15 +14 Fedje et al. (2005a, b);
−301 −301 −301 Lacourse et al. (2005)
2 Dundas Islands +14 +13 +12 +11 +10 +10 +9 +8 +7 +7 +6 McLaren (2008)
3 Prince Rupert +50 +40 +30 +25 +20 +15 +5 0 <0 < 0 < 0 Clague et al. (1982);
Fedje et al. (2005b)
4 Alert Bay Ice +302 +55 >+17 +53 +3 Hebda (1983); Howes (1983);
Stafford and Christensen
(2009)
5 Barkley Sound Ice Above −46 −46 −45 −44 −42 −27 −18 −11 −4 +2 Clague et al. (1982);
+253 Dalimore et al.
(2008); Friele and
Hutchinson (1993)
6 N. Salish Sea Ice +150 +100 +50 0 −2 −2 0 +3 +2 +1 Hutchinson et al. (2004)
7 S. Salish Sea Ice +75 0 −4 −30 −4 −8 −6 Fedje et al. (2009);
James et al. (2009)
8 Fraser Ice +200 +180 +80 +60 +20 +18 +16 0 −12 −5 −2 0 Clague et al. (1982);
Lowlands James et al. (2002)
9 Global −105 −100 −95 −90 −75 −65 −60 −55 −50 −35 −25 −18 −8 −2 Bard et al. (1996);
Eustatic Stanford et al. (2006)
Bold numbers indicate data points constrained by 14C dates. Other data points are interpolated. Shell dates have been for local marine reservoir effect (Southon
and Fedje 2003; James et al. 2009). 1 data from northern Hecate Strait; 2 data point from 50 km northwest of Alert Bay; 3 data point from 50 km northwest
of Barkley Sound
Q. Mackie et al.
Fig. 3.2 Use of Livingstone core sampler from canoe-based platform, 2001. Sediment cores
provide a number of palaeoenvironmental proxies, including vegetation, climate, and sea-level
history. Q. Mackie photo
plants and animals, including Pleistocene megafauna, from the region (Lian and
Hickin 1992). By 13,000 RCYBP, ice had receded to the eastern Fraser Valley, but
still existed in the mountain valleys of the southern Coast Mountains (Armstrong
1981). Rapid deglaciation was complemented by rapidly rising sea levels during the
post-Vashon submergence. Stratigraphic marine deposits demonstrate that sea levels
occurring around 13,000 RCYBP were 175 m higher than today (Mathewes et al.
1970). During this period, the Stave Watershed would have been much like a fjord
(Fig. 3.4) (Gilbert and Deslodges 1992). Following the post-Vashon submergence, a
rapid drop in sea levels occurred. By 12,000 RCYBP, sea levels had dropped to
about 80 m above current sea level and the rate of marine regression became slower
56 Q. Mackie et al.
Fig. 3.3 Image of topography and bathymetry of the north coast of British Columbia at ca.
12,000–9,400 RCYBP (a–c) and detail of southern Juan Perez Sound at 11,500 RCYBP (d) com-
bining high-resolution multi-beam image with conventional terrestrial and hydrographic data. The
image shows palaeo-river channels and associated fluvial features (terraces, gravel bars, deltas,
and lake basins) as well as geological features such as drumlins and eskers. Images prepared by
Patrick Bartier and Daryl Fedje of Parks Canada
Fig. 3.4 Change in the physical landscape of the Stave Lake region from late Pleistocene through
Holocene periods. Time periods are in radiocarbon (14C) years. Prepared by D. McLaren
(James et al. 2002). Between 12,000 and 11,500 RCYBP, sea levels regressed to
60 m above present sea levels. Stave Lake would have been transformed from a fjord
to a lake during this period. A minor glacial event occurred in the central Fraser
Valley area after 11,500 RCYBP: the Sumas glaciation (Fig. 3.4). This glacial event
has been traced as a glacial advance in the Fraser lowlands to its limit a few kilome-
ters west of the Stave River between 11,500 and 11,200 RCYBP (Saunders et al.
1987; cf. Souch 1989). The lowlands of the Fraser Valley were filled at this time by
fluvial, deltaic, marine, lacustrine, and outwash sediments (Clague et al. 1983).
Following the retreat of Sumas ice, drainage patterns reoriented and became similar
to present flows. Sea levels did not stabilize at this point but continued to regress until
they reached approximately 12 m below present-day sea level around 8,000 RCYBP,
at which time isostatic rebound as a result of glaciation finally ceased (Mathewes
et al. 1970). As the Fraser Delta had not yet formed, the mouth of the Fraser River
was further east than it is today, being located approximately where the Pitt and
Fraser now meet. Changing ice, sea, and lake levels of this area provide an example
of the different geomorphic factors affecting early archaeological site locations.
58 Q. Mackie et al.
Barkley Sound
Until recently, late Pleistocene sea-level histories for western Vancouver Island had
been poorly constrained temporally and spatially. However, recent work has
provided a significantly refined perspective on the sea-level history and coastal
morphology for this period. Before 12,000 RCYBP, sea levels for central western
Vancouver Island were more than 21 m above modern (Gutsell et al. 2004) and
rapidly fell to 46 m below modern at 12,000 RCYBP (Dallimore et al. 2008). Sea
level stayed more or less stable for approximately 2,000 years, then rose rapidly to
near modern at about 6,500 RCYBP and to the mid-Holocene high stand of about
4 m above modern (Friele and Hutchinson 1993). This dramatic fluctuation is illus-
trated in Fig. 3.5. The observed period of sea-level stability between 12,000 and
10,000 RCYBP provides a welcome framework for investigating the potential pres-
ence of late Pleistocene archaeological sites. Combined with high-resolution sea
floor mapping, areas with potential for archaeological deposits can be identified
and targeted for underwater sampling. Particularly interesting landforms for inves-
tigation are level landforms near protected shorelines and along travel corridors
such as drowned river terraces and palaeo deltas (Fig. 3.6). Areas with little lateral
distance to modern and ancient shorelines also have the potential for occupation on
constrained, stable, flat areas above the mid-Holocene marine high stand, such as
bluff-edges. Such places would have been attractive at many different sea levels.
However, no archaeological sites have currently been identified on western
Vancouver Island which date to before 5,000 RCYBP. This is not surprising as
palaeo-shorelines dating between 12,000 and 6,000 RCYBP are drowned at depths
to ca. 46 m below modern and there has been no subtidal testing nor systematic testing
of elevated bluffs.
Fig. 3.5 (a) Image of modern topography and bathymetry of Barkley Sound and (b) Late
Pleistocene shoreline at 11,000 RCYBP when relative sea level was 46 m below modern for a
period of 2,000 years. Dashed line outlines the modern shoreline (images obtained with permission
from A. Dallimore, Royal Roads University)
Fig. 3.6 Multibeam image showing high resolution bathymetry of the palaeo-river and
palaeo-delta in Effingham Inlet dating to the sea level low stand of −45 m between 12,000 and
10,000 RCYBP. Image obtained with permission from A. Dallimore, Royal Roads University
Deglaciation and Early Post-Glacial Vegetational History
On the outer north coast of British Columbia, lowland deglaciation commenced by

16,000 RCYBP and ice-free areas extended to the east side of the Hecate Plain
before 14,400 RCYBP (more than 200 km east of the west coast of Haida Gwaii);
however, some cirque and higher elevation piedmont glaciers continued to be active
until ca. 12,500 RCYBP (Mathewes 1989; Barrie et al. 2005; Lacourse et al. 2005). The
outer southern British Columbia coast was largely ice-free from at least 18,000–
16,300 RCYBP (Al-Suwaidi et al. 2006), but a late Fraser glacial advance pushed
from the BC mainland across Vancouver Island to the Continental Shelf shortly
thereafter. The outer coast remained ice-covered until at least 14,500 RCYBP with rapid
retreat underway at 14,000 RCYBP with the west coast and lowland areas of the
inner coast (east side of Vancouver Island) ice-free by ca. 13,000 RCYBP (Cosma
et al. 2008; Hebda 1983; Stafford and Christensen 2009; Brown and Hebda 2002).
During early post-glacial time, there were rapid shifts in vegetation along the
coast of British Columbia. At present, there is no direct or continuous evidence for
botanical refugia during the last glacial maximum. The northern BC coast was
characterized by herb and shrub tundra-like plant communities from at least 15,000
to 13,500 RCYBP (Mathewes 1989; Lacourse et al. 2005). The development of open
pine parklands and woodlands on the west coast of Haida Gwaii by 13,000 RCYBP
may support the presence of a nearby biological refugium. Notably, a pine stump,
still rooted in a peaty soil and dated to 12,200 RCYBP, was recovered from a
drowned fluvial terrace at 143 m water depth off eastern Haida Gwaii (Fedje and
60 Q. Mackie et al.
Josenhans 2000; Lacourse et al. 2003), and numerous other drowned soils were
discovered using the IKU dredge (Fig. 3.7), producing a diverse record of plant mac-
rofossils (Fig. 3.8). Spruce was present on the outer north coast by 11,500 and closed
spruce forests had become established by ca. 11,000 RCYBP. During Younger
Dryas-age time, there appears to have been a shift to a cooler and more open climate-
vegetation regime (Lacourse and Mathewes 2005). After 10,000 RCYBP, the climate
ameliorated and closed mixed conifer forests expanded and rose to elevations signifi-
cantly higher than modern (Lacourse et al. 2005; Pellatt and Mathewes 1997).
Fig. 3.7 IKU sampling (a) and intact terrestrial soils overlain by recent marine sediments
(b – dark matrix to right of arrow) recovered from 143 m water depth in Juan Perez Sound. An
outer tree ring from a rooted lodgepole pine stump and a willow twig from the associated soil were
both dated to 12,200 RCYBP. J. McSporran photos
Fig. 3.8 Plant macrofossils dating to 12,200 RCYBP recovered from a drowned forest soil
now 143 m below sea level in Juan Perez Sound, southeast Haida Gwaii: (a) willow twigs and pine
cones, (b) cow parsnip fruit, (c) willow buds, and (d) pine cone and needles. R. Mathewes image
On the south coast of BC, late-glacial advances (16,000–14,000 RCYBP)

p reclude the very early post-glacial vegetation community history seen on the outer
north coast. On the outer south coast, there was a rapid shift from tundra to open
pine woodlands between 13,500 and 13,000 RCYBP (Hebda 1983; Brown and
Hebda 2002). Subsequent shifts in plant communities were strongly influenced by
east-west trending precipitation gradients. Open pine woodlands endured until ca.
12,500 RCYBP before being replaced by a mixed conifer forest that was pine-
dominated until ca. 10,500–10,000 RCYBP and then by one characterized by low
pine counts and abundant alder and by the arrival of Douglas fir (Brown and Hebda
2002; Walker and Pellat 2003).
Palaeontological Data
The early post-glacial palaeontological record for the British Columbia Coast
remains sparse; however, recent work in Haida Gwaii, northern Vancouver Island,
and the Salish Sea (Gulf of Georgia) is providing significant new data, some of
which suggests a very different fauna, at least on the terrestrial side, to that of more
recent times. Table 3.2 portrays current knowledge of fauna from late glacial to
earliest Holocene time. The table only provides detail on medium-to-large mam-
mals and general bird, fish, and shellfish categories for reasons of space. The pre-
Holocene record is largely non-archaeological with most data coming from karst
caves, marly wetlands and marine clays.
The very early post-glacial record for terrestrial fauna is limited to a single brown
bear, dated to 14,400 RCYBP from a cave on the west coast of Haida Gwaii (Ramsey
et al. 2004). At about 12,000 RCYBP the record becomes more extensive with
brown bear, black bear, caribou, deer, fox, birds, salmon, and other anadramous fish
from karst caves on Haida Gwaii (Fig. 3.9a, b); shortface bear, brown bear, black
bear, goat, and marten from northern Vancouver Island caves; and bison, ground
sloth, shortface bear, black bear, sea lions, salmon, and marine fish from wetlands
and marine clays in the southern Vancouver Island – Salish Sea area (Al-Suwaidi
et al. 2006; Fedje et al. 2001; Fedje and Sumpter 2008; Steffen et al. 2008; Wilson
et al. 2009; Harington et al. 2004). By ca. 10,000 RCYBP, a number of species had
been extirpated from the outer coast and the “modern” coastal fauna is in place. The
extirpations and “modern” fauna development were likely largely driven by environ-
mental change from tundra and open woodlands to dense coniferous forest.
Although there are only scattered data relating to the maritime fauna of early post-
glacial time, a number of marine cores (Dallimore et al. 2008; Pellatt et al. 2001;
Barrie et al. 1993; Hetherington et al. 2003) show evidence of a highly productive
marine system as does the presence of mammals, such as sea lions and brown bears,
which had a substantial focus on maritime foods. Brown bears are especially relevant
as these omnivores have many of the same resource requirements as humans, are
abundant in early post-glacial assemblages, and all the dated BC coastal specimens
have stable isotope signatures (13C, 15N) that demonstrate a mixed marine and terres-
trial diet (Fedje et al. 2004a, b; Fedje and Sumpter 2007, 2008; Steffen et al. 2008).
Their presence implies a highly productive terrestrial and marine environment.
62
Table 3.2 Dated pleistocene/holocene transition fauna for different regions of coastal British Columbia
14
CBP Shortface Brown Black Ground Mtn. River Sea Sea Other
Region (×1,000) bear bear bear sloth Bison Elk Caribou Deer goat Fox otter lion Seal otter Bird Salmon fish Shellfish References
Haida Gwaii 14–13 X X Barrie et al. (1993);
13–12 X X Fedje et al. (2005c);
12–11 X X X X X X X X X Fedje and Sumpter
11–10 X X X X X X X (2007);
Ramsey et al. (2004);
10–9 X X X X X X X X X
Wigen (2005)
W Vancouver 13–12 X Al-Suwaidi et al. (2006);
Island 12–11 Nagorsen et al. (1995)
11–10
10–9 X
NE Vancouver 13–12 X X X Howes (1982); Nagorsen
Island 12–11 X X X and Keddie (2000);
11–10 X Stafford (2009);
10–9 X X Steffen et al. (2008)
SE Vancouver 13–12 Harington et al. (2004);
Island 12–11 X X X X X X Wilson et al. (2009)
11–10
10–9
Gulf Islands 13–12 Wilson et al. (2009)
12–11 X X X X
11–10 X X
10–9
Fraser 13–12 X Harington 1996; Harington
Lowlands 12–11 X et al. (2004); James
11–10 X et al. (2002)
10–9
Q. Mackie et al.
Fig. 3.9 Brown bear skull (a) dated to 11,870 RCYBP and sockeye salmon vertebrae (b) dated
to 11,255 RCYBP from Gaadu Din 1 cave; California mussel shell (c) dated to 9,400 RCYBP
from Kilgii Gwaay. D. Fedje photo
Early post-glacial archaeological faunal assemblages are rare, but it is noteworthy

that a fully developed maritime adaptation is evident from the 9,450 RCYBP Kilgii
Gwaay site in southern Haida Gwaii (Fedje et al. 2005c). The Kilgii Gwaay
fauna is dominated by marine fish (15 species), birds (12 species), and mammals
(5 species). Black bear is the only non-maritime mammal and the few birds that are
not fully marine are migratory species (ducks, geese), and raven. At Richardson
Island, 17 taxa of fish are known from highly fragmented, calcined hearth remains,
mostly dating to before 9,100 RCYBP; rockfish, salmon, herring, dogfish, sculpin,
and a variety of other minor taxa from diverse environments are present, attesting
to a productive and diverse marine ecosystem (Steffen 2006).
Over 3,000 salmonid remains have been recovered from Gaadu Din 1 Cave,
dating from 11,500 to 10,500 RCYBP. Representative examples of these tested
positive for sockeye DNA, although other species cannot be ruled out from the
remainder of the assemblage. These are thought to have been deposited by brown
and black bears using the cave as an autumn lair while fishing in streams such as
the palaeo-lake and river system known from nearby Section Cove (Fedje 2008).
Salmon, always a touchstone species in Northwest Coast archaeology, are clearly
present in the terminal Pleistocene. Recent studies emphasize salmon’s ability to
colonize streams quickly and efficiently after glacial retreat. Within only 28 years,
64 Q. Mackie et al.
coho, sockeye, and pink salmon had colonized a creek in newly deglaciated Glacier
Bay, Alaska. Maximum escapements during this time were recorded at <100, 500,
and 15,700 fish per year, respectively (Milner et al. 2008:416). Other aquatic
indicators such as invertebrate populations also rose steadily, stabilizing after only
20 years. Dolly Varden was the first colonizing species. It appears that streams can
become productive environments in surprisingly short order, as the presence of
Dolly Varden and sockeye salmon in Juan Perez Sound in the early post-glacial
confirms. To the south, hake and herring are present almost as soon as organic
materials appear in the Saanich Inlet core record, as early as 11,000 RCYBP
(Tunnicliffe et al. 2001).
For many years, there has been speculation about one or more glacial refugia on
the Northwest Coast. Numerous genetic and taxonomic studies on modern popula-
tions as diverse as brown bear, black bear, stickleback, Nebria sp. beetles, pine
marten, and short-tailed weasel show phylogeographies consistent with at least one
large, productive refugium during the LGM, perhaps on the submerged Hecate
lowlands (Reimchen and Byun 2005) or in one or more of the five areas in nearby
southeast Alaska identified as possible refugia (Carrara et al. 2007). Coast deer are
suggested to have survived in multiple cryptic refugia (Latch et al. 2009). Smith
et al. (2001) show that genetic diversity of Haida Gwaii Coho salmon is consistent
with survival in fluvial refugia through the LGM. Similar suggestions have been
made regarding Chum salmon (Kondzela et al. 1994). Continued research on the
refugia question is essential for understanding early human occupation.
In summary, there may have been at least one productive refugium for large land
mammals and anadramous fish on the BC coast during the LGM. Even if there was no
refugium, the evidence points to a well-developed marine and terrestrial ecology
developing rapidly in the post-glacial period, a process Milner et al. (2007) show
occurs at a decadal scale. The requirement for source populations from which to colo-
nize dictates that either there was a refugium or that the area was accessible from
points north and/or south. While heterogeneously distributed through time and space
in the terminal Pleistocene, there were large areas of productive grasslands and park-
lands, supporting bison, caribou, deer, ground sloth, and three species of bear, fronted
by a diversity of marine habitats which included salmon-bearing waters and streams.
Sea Core Data
The palaeo-marine history of the Northwest Coast has been investigated from a
variety of ship and shore-based sediment cores. Coring of sediments from high-
energy coastal settings provides relatively coarse-grained temporal records, which
best document major transitions between glacial and post-glacial conditions,
whereas sediment cores recovered from anoxic inlet basins have provided sub-
annual temporal resolution of past climatic conditions (Dallimore et al. 2005,
2008). These include cores from Hecate Strait and Cook Bank (Barrie and Conway
1999; Lacourse et al. 2005), from Effingham Inlet on the west coast of Vancouver
Island (Dallimore et al. 2008) and Saanich Inlet on southeastern Vancouver Island
(Tunnicliffe et al. 2001). These provide the proxy data (fossils and isotopes) to
calculate primary productivity – in some cases showing considerable annual or
decadal fluctuations in the marine environment.
Archaeological Data
Having reviewed the palaeoenvironmental data, we now turn to the archaeological

evidence which places humans on this landscape. The modern political boundary of
BC forms a poor unit of analysis of course. It is worth mentioning that to the North,
sites in central Alaska reach back 12,000 RCYBP (Hamilton and Goebel 1999), as
does Paisley Cave in Oregon (Gilbert et al. 2008) and Monte Verde in central Chile
(Dillehay et al. 2008). To the east of the Rocky Mountains, Clovis occupations in the
“Ice free Corridor” dating to less than 11,000 RCYBP may be the basal archaeologi-
cal culture type (Fladmark et al. 1988; Fedje et al. 1995; Waters and Stafford 2007).
Pleistocene archaeology is not well represented in the Cordillera, perhaps because
of the late deglaciation of valley bottoms and an absence of focused surveys in
upland locations. The following are some brief summaries of the more important
terminal Pleistocene archaeological sites from the BC coast and adjacent areas.
Late Pleistocene Sites (Pre 10,000 RCYBP)
On-Your-Knees Cave
At On-Your-Knees Cave (49-PET-408) on Prince of Wales Island in Southeastern

Alaska, a single date of 10,300 RCYBP on a surface-collected bone tool pushes the
occupation range of this site into the terminal Pleistocene, although most use of this
karst cave (Fig. 3.10-1) is concentrated in the period from 9,500 to 8,500 RCYBP.
A small lithic assemblage underlying the main occupation layer may also be of
pre-Holocene age (Dixon 2001).
K1 Cave
K1 Cave (FgUc-6) is an extensive karst cave system, at elevations from 10 to 60 m

above sea level, on the west coast of Haida Gwaii (Fig. 3.10-2). Excavations in a
small chamber, currently some 60 m in from open air, produced a large faunal assem-
blage and two spearpoint bases (Fedje et al. 2004a, b). One point (Fig. 3.11a) was
recovered from a layer constrained by dates of 10,660 ± 40 and 10,525 ± 50 RCYBP
and the other (Fig. 3.11b) by dates of 10,960 ± 35 and 10,510 ± 35 RCYBP. None of
the fauna shows evidence of human modification and there is no evidence that
66 Q. Mackie et al.
Alaska British
1. OYK Cave
2. K1 Cave
3. Gaadu Din 1 & 2
1
Columbia 4. Werner Bay
5. Ayer Pond
6. Stave Watershed
7. Manis
8. Puget Sound Clovis
9. Far West Point
Dundas Islands 9 Prince Rupert
10. Kilgii Gwaay
11. Collison Bay
12. Gwaii Haanas Intertidal
17 13. Richardson Island
16 18
Haida Hecate
14. Arrow Creek
15. Lyell Bay
2
Gwaii Strait 16. Lawn Point
13 17. Forks
15 43 18. Bish Cove
14
11 Haida 19. Namu
10 Gwaii 20. El Ta-18 – Hunter Island
21. Bear Cove
20 19 22. Glenrose Cannery
23. Milliken
24. Saltery Bay
Alert Bay 25. Kokish and Woss Lake
26. Elsie Lake
Vancouver 21 27. Alberni Inlet
25
Island N. Salish Sea
Pacific 24
Ocean 26
22 6 23
Barkley Sound 27 Fraser
0 100 5 Lowland
Kilometers S. Salish Sea
150 m Isobath 7
Modern Coastline 8
Relative sea-level region Washington

Fig. 3.10 Locations of archaeological sites and regions referred to in text
people were active in this cavern (in the dark zone and no charcoal concentrations
or lithic detritus). The faunal assemblage is consistent with that of a bear den and
lair. It is likely that people were hunting at or near the cave mouth and the points
were carried into the cavern in the bodies of wounded bears (McLaren et al. 2005).
Gaadu Din 1
Gaadu Din 1 (1693T) is a karst cave at 40–60 m elevation on Huxley Island, southeast
Haida Gwaii (Fig. 3.10-3). Excavations in a small cavern about 10 m from open air
produced a substantial palaeontological assemblage and a small number of cultural
Fig. 3.11 Artefacts from K1 Cave (a, b), Gaadu Din 2 cave (c, d), and Gaadu Din 1 Cave (e–g).
Drawings by J. McSporran
artefacts (Fedje 2008). The archaeological assemblage includes a bone point fragment
directly dated to 10,150 ± 25 RCYBP, a spearpoint (Fig. 3.11g) associated with a
charcoal date of 9,980 ± 30, an undated spearpoint base (Fig. 3.11f ), and flake tools
(Fig. 3.11e) associated with dates of 10,550 ± 25 and 10,615 ± 30 RCYBP.
Gaadu Din 2
Gaadu Din 2 (1906T) is a small karst cave at 100 m above sea level, about 300 m
north of Gaadu Din 1 (Fedje and Smith 2009). Excavations were conducted a few
metres inside the cave. Faunal remains were limited to a small number of fish
bones and one poorly preserved black bear bone. Archaeological evidence
includes hearths, dating to 10,280, 10,210, and 9,500 RCYBP, and a small lithic
assemblage. Four bifacial tools were recovered, including a complete spearpoint
(Fig. 3.11d) and biface (Fig. 3.11c) dating to 10,220 ± 30 and 10,295 ± 25 RCYBP,
respectively, as well as two point fragments from a hearth dating to 10,210 ± 20
RCYBP (three dates). At least eleven biface resharpening flakes were also recov-
ered from hearth matrices.
68 Q. Mackie et al.
Werner Bay
A single stone tool was recovered from 53 m below sea level in Werner Bay
(Fig. 3.10-4). This site was discovered by bucket dredge sampling of a terrace iden-
tified from a swath bathymetry-derived model of a submerged terrestrial landscape
off the east coast of Moresby Island (Josenhans et al. 1997). Based on sea level
history, this location was last subaerial at 10,200 RCYBP.
Stave Lake Pleistocene Sites
The former shoreline of Stave Lake (Fig. 3.10-6) was inundated by hydroelectric

facilities at Stave Falls in 1910. Since 1997, during periods of low water, archaeo-
logical survey crews identified 56 surface scatters of stone tools left as lag deposits
following reservoir operation-related erosion (McLaren et al. 1997, 2008; McLaren
and Owens 2000). Projectile points from 23 of these lithic scatters were identified
as having similar attributes to those associated with the late Pleistocene and early
Holocene stemmed and foliate point traditions of the northern Northwest Coast,
southern Plateau, and Great Basin regions of western North America (McLaren
2003; McLaren and Steffen 2008). Preliminary subsurface testing was conducted at
15 of the 56 archaeological sites in the area between 2002 and 2007 (McLaren et al.
2008). A total of 28 radiocarbon dates have been run on plant macrofossils and
charcoal collected from these subsurface tests. Two sites were found to have dates
associated with archaeological remains older than 10,000 RCYBP. During test
excavations at the Cardinalis Creek Mouth Site (DhRn-29), a chert biface preform
and multiple flakes were found. Two separate samples of charcoal collected directly
under the biface preform were dated to 10,370 ± 40 and 10,150 ± 40 RCYBP
(McLaren et al. 2008). At the Devil’s Point Site (DhRn-16), a small test excavation
was placed into a cut bank to recover a large flake tool. Two charcoal flecks found
directly overlying this artefact were dated to 10,290 ± 50 and 10,210 ± 60 RCYBP.
Manis
The Manis site (Fig. 3.10-7) features Mammut americanum (mastodon) bones exca-
vated from beneath peat bog deposits (Gustafson et al. 1979). One of the mastodon
ribs has a bone or antler point embedded in it, around which the rib has healed. The
point has never been extracted. One flaked cobble spall was also found in associa-
tion with the bones. Radiocarbon samples on associated materials returned dates of
12,000 and 11,850 RCYBP. Some archaeologists have questioned whether the point
is of human manufacture (Carlson 1990; Dixon 1999; Grayson and Meltzer 2002).
The association of the cobble spall with the mastodon remains is unclearly reported
and the illustration of the spall is poor, according to Grayson and Meltzer (2002).
Overall, the site is poorly reported; the nature of the site stratigraphy in relation to
the bones and radiocarbon dates is uncertain (Dixon 1999), and there is therefore
reasonable doubt about whether this site is indeed of cultural origin. Nonetheless,
while it was long a temporal outlier on the Northwest Coast, recent, less equivocal
finds are putting humans on the landscape at similar times and hence reducing
scepticism about this site.
Ayer Pond
There are a number of locations in the southern Salish Sea and the Victoria-Saanich
Peninsula area where bison and other large game species have been recovered from
wetlands (Wilson et al. 2009; Kenady et al. 2007, 2011). Three individual bison are
known from Saanich-Victoria and nine from Orcas Island. At Ayer Pond (45-SJ-
454.1) on Orcas Island (Fig. 3.10-5), there is evidence suggesting human involve-
ment in a partially articulated bison (Kenady et al. 2007, 2011). While there were
no tools associated with the 11,760 ± 70 RCYBP bison, green bone fractures, per-
cussion impact scars, cut marks, and bone representation “skewed towards less
meaty cranial and distal limb elements” suggests human agency (Wilson et al.
2009) during firmly pre-Clovis times.
Puget Sound Clovis
In the Puget Sound area around Seattle (Fig. 3.10-8), eight fluted projectile points
assigned to the Clovis archaeological culture have been found in undated contexts.
Two of these are found within the general Salish Sea area: one from Bellingham
and another from Whidbey Island (Croes et al. 2008:108), suggesting that people
were present in northern Puget Sound ca. 11,000 RCYBP. The Puget lowlands offer
relatively easy travel from the Salish Sea to the Columbia River and from there into
the intermontane areas of Washington State, where the East Wenatchee (Richey-Roberts)
Clovis site, 150 km east of Seattle and east of the Cascade/Coast range, is well
documented (Gramly 1993).
Early Holocene Sites (10,000–7,000 RCYBP)
An increasing number of early Holocene sites have recently been identified in

coastal British Columbia. Many of these sites have been discovered with landforms
associated with ancient shorelines which provide additional context for under-
standing maritime adaptations. In this section, we catalogue the main known sites
within the period 10,000–7,000 RCYBP.
On-Your-Knees Cave (49-PET-408)
Apart from the bone tool mentioned above, most use of this karst cave (Fig. 3.10-1)
is concentrated in the period 9,200–8,500 RCYBP. The lithic assemblage includes
70 Q. Mackie et al.
both bifacial and microblade technology, including those made of exotic materials
such as obsidian from sources on nearby Suemez Island and distant Mount Edziza
(Lee 2001). Notably, the skeletal remains of a young man were found, dating to
9,200 RCYBP, after a marine reservoir correction was applied to account for a D13C
value of −12.1. Such a value indicates a lifetime diet strongly focused on marine
foods, despite this site’s apparent function as a bear hunting locale. DNA analysis
shows that this individual represents the oldest known member of the ancient
Haplotype D sublineage and of the Y-Chromosome haplogroup Q-M3 (Kemp et al.
2007), suggesting he belonged to an early, founding population of Asian origin.
Far West Point
A focused programme of palaeoenvironmental reconstruction and archaeological

survey on the Dundas Archipelago (Fig. 3.10-9) resulted in a number of sites located
on higher sea levels (McLaren 2008). One undated site contained a microblade
fragment; otherwise diagnostic lithic artefacts are absent. The Far West Point site
(GcTr-6) has shell midden deposits dating between 6,000 and 7,000 RCYBP, which
show strong focus on a diverse suite of marine species, especially barnacle, rockfish,
greenling, herring, ducks, and pinnipeds. A worked whale bone tool was dated to
7,300 RCYBP. Most intriguingly, a black, organic-rich (microscopic traces of
urchin, mussel, clam, fish, and sea mammal) layer below the shell midden returned
a date on charcoal of 9,690 RCYBP, although a confirmatory date has not yet been
obtained (McLaren 2008:244). Other Dundas Archipelago shell midden deposits
dating to between 6,000 and 7,000 RCYBP are noted by Martindale et al. (2009).
Kilgii Gwaay
Situated on a small island in southernmost Haida Gwaii (Fig. 3.10-10), the Kilgii

Gwaay site (1325T) includes a water-saturated component and a shell-rich
component, both of which are located in the modern intertidal zone (Fedje et al.
2001, 2005c). This site is securely dated to 9,450 RCYBP by 18 radiocarbon
samples which are consistent with its position relative to sea-level history. A large
faunal assemblage shows a marine emphasis (31 marine – maritime species) on
sea mussel, rockfish, lingcod, alcids, albatross, harbour seal, and sea otter,
although black bear is an important component of the mammal assemblage
(Fedje et al. 2005c; McLaren et al. 2005). The abundant stone tools are almost
exclusively unifacial (Fig. 3.12c, d) and the assemblage includes many distinctive
discoidal cores (Fig. 3.12a, b). Organic technology includes three-strand twine
(Fig. 3.12e), withes wrapped with split spruce root (Fig. 3.12f ), and wooden
wedges (Fig. 3.12g) and hafts. Overall, this site shows a notable fluency with
marine resources and implies the use of capable watercraft and exploitation of
many different ecological niches.
3 Early Environments and Archaeology of Coastal British Columbia
Fig. 3.12 Artefacts from Kilgii Gwaay site: discoidal cores (a, b), unifaces (c, d), braided twine (e), wrapped withes (f ), and wooden wedge (g). Illustrations by
J. Cohen (a), J. McSporran (b–d), D. Fedje (e–g)
71
72 Q. Mackie et al.
Collison Bay
The Collison Bay site (1720T) is about 20 km north of Kilgii Gwaay (Fig. 3.10-11),
with which it shares many similarities. Collison Bay is an intertidal site with
numerous water-worn artefacts on the surface. Excavations show sharp, pristine
lithics in a possible palaeosol about 50 cm below the beach surface. These strongly
resemble the Kilgii Gwaay assemblage in typology, raw material, and depositional
context. No radiocarbon dates of these buried sediments have been obtained, but
technological and sea-level affinities allow confident assignment to 9,450 RCYBP.
Gwaii Haanas Intertidal Sites
In addition to Kilgii Gwaay and Collison Bay, there are over 100 other intertidal
archaeological sites known from the Gwaii Haanas archipelago of southern Haida
Gwaii (Fig. 3.10-12). These range from one to hundreds of stone tools, usually in
a deflated lag surface. Some of these intertidal sites may contain intact, in situ
cultural layers beneath the current beach surface, though this has not been demon-
strated. The large sample size allows analysis of site location relative to coastal
resources and to late Holocene sites. A study by Mackie and Sumpter (2005)
reveals that sites were located in markedly different places than in later times.
Richardson Island Site
Richardson Island (1127T) is the most thoroughly investigated of the Haida Gwaii
early Holocene sites which sit on raised marine landforms (Fig. 3.10-13). The first
occupation was on a supratidal marine berm at 9,300 RCYBP. Rapid sea level rise
in effect “pushed” this berm uphill, creating deep and finely stratified deposits until
the 8,900 RCYBP marine maximum. Between 9,300 and 8,750 RCYBP, the lithic
assemblage is dominated by bifacial and unifacial tools of the Kinggi Complex,
including discoidal and unidirectional core reduction strategies (Fedje et al. 2011b;
Storey 2008). Bone only survives as fragmented calcined pieces in hearths, from
which Steffen (2006) identified 17 fish taxa as well as bird and mammal.
Microblades are introduced at 8,750 RCYBP and appear to develop in situ as a
period of experimentation has been observed following their appearance (Smith
2004; Mackie et al. 2008). The location of the site on a small island central to North
Darwin Sound combined with the site contents allows the confident assessment of
maritime-focused way of life, although the numerous bifacial spearpoints were
probably used for winter bear hunting.
Arrow Creek
Arrow Creek 1 (766T) is situated on a raised alluvial fan at 14–16 m above the
modern tidal limit 200 m upstream from where the creek currently flows into
Matheson Inlet on the east coast of Moresby Island, Haida Gwaii (Fig. 3.10-14).
The main occupations at this site date between 5,500 and 8,200 RCYBP, although
a few scattered stone tools were recovered from a layer dating to 8,880 RCYBP
(Fedje et al. 1996; Fedje and Christensen 1999). There were no faunal remains or
clearly defined features encountered in the excavated area. The ca. 900 lithics from
the excavations include 12 microblade cores and 93 microblades as well as a
number of unifacial stone tools and reduction detritus. No bifacial artefacts or
biface reduction flakes were present. Arrow Creek 2 (925T) is situated at 0–3 m
above high tide. At this site, a number of stone tools were recovered from estuarine
deposits dating between 9,500 and 9,200 RCYBP. A barnacle attached to a flake
tool was dated to 9,120 RCYBP (marine reservoir corrected) and a stone wall (pos-
sibly part of a stone wall fish trap) was associated with a date of 9,010 RCYBP.
Lyell Bay
In the Lyell Bay area of southern Haida Gwaii (Fig. 3.10-15), two raised beach sites
(14–16 m above high tide) were investigated (Fedje and Christensen 1999). At both
sites, testing was limited to a 1 m2 unit, excavated to about 2 m depth and a few shal-
low 50 cm square tests. No faunal remains were recovered from either site. The Lyell
Bay South site (1354T) dated from 8,450 to 6,600 RCYBP. The Lyell Bay East site
(1355T) dated from 8,800 to 5,000 RCYBP. At both sites, lithic artefacts (n = 610 and
274, respectively) included microblades, spokeshaves, cobble choppers, and multidi-
rectional cores as well as flake and core tools. Stone tool technology was largely
unifacial with only a single biface thinning flake from the basal levels of Lyell Bay
South and a single biface fragment from the basal level of Lyell Bay East.
Lawn Point
Lawn Point (FiTx-3) is a raised beach site located on the east coast of Graham
Island, Haida Gwaii (Fig. 3.10-16). The site exhibits six components, the lower five of
which are characterized by pebble tools, flake tools, pebble cores, microblade cores,
and microblades (Fladmark 1986, 1989). No bifacial tools or biface reduction detritus
were observed at this site. Components two through four appear to be of mid-Holocene
age (of these, only component 4 is dated – 5,750 RCYBP). Component 5 dates to
7,200 RCYBP. Component 7 is undated, but, based on local sea-level history,
likely dates between ca. 9,000 and 8,000 RCYBP (Fedje et al. 2005b).
Forks (GaTw-9)
This subsurface lithic scatter is located at the base of the eastern flank of
Argonaut Hill in the Hecate lowlands (Fig. 3.10-17) and is known from small
74 Q. Mackie et al.
test excavations only (Sanders 2009). Twenty-eight artefacts were recovered

from the setting on a terrace edge above the +16 m Holocene marine high-
stand and associated wave-cut bank. A series of radiocarbon dates shows first
occupation by at least 7,140 ± 20 RCYBP. The tool assemblage includes a variety
of chopper and spall tools and flakes made from diverse but locally available
raw materials.
Bish Cove FlTe-35
Very little is known about the early Holocene human occupation of the mainland
coast between the Namu area and the Dundas Archipelago, a distance of about
300 km. Bish Cove is a small site on Douglas Channel near Kitimat situated at
38–45 m above sea level (Fig. 3.10-18). Several microblades and a biface fragment
were found at this site, which is suggestive of early Holocene occupation (Streeter
2006). This is in agreement with preliminary sea-level history; the shoreline would
have been 35 m above present 9,300 RCYBP (Fedje et al. 2005b). The cultural
material is found in association with and above beach sands, though no radiocar-
bon dates have been run (Streeter 2009, personal communication). Mixed biface-
microblade assemblages at Namu, Richardson Island, and On-Your-Knees Cave are
all of early Holocene age. Taken together, this small, poorly known site is suggested
to date to before 9,000 RCYBP and points the way to the likely location of similar
sites in the poorly known archaeological area of Douglas Channel, Gardner Canal,
and surrounding archipelago.
Namu
The site of Namu (ElSx-1) on the central BC coast (Fig. 3.10-19) contains an essen-
tially continuous cultural occupation spanning much of the Holocene (Carlson
1996). It consists of extensive shell midden deposits, post-dating 6,000 RCYBP
(Cannon 2003), underlain by early Holocene black greasy silts from which was
recovered a basal date of 9,700 RCYBP (Carlson 1996). No fauna preserve in the
lowest levels, but these do contain a rich lithic assemblage dominated by pebble
tools and microblades (Rahemtulla 2006). The site is situated on the outer fringe of
the BC mainland.
ElTa-18 – Hunter Island
This shell midden site is located in a narrow inlet on Hunter Island, some 20 km west
of Namu (Fig. 3.10-20). Charcoal from near the base of the cultural deposits (as
determined and sampled from percussion coring) was dated to 9,940 RCYBP (Cannon
2000). It has only been subject to preliminary percussion core and auger testing.
Bear Cove
Bear Cove (EeSu-8) is a shoreline shell midden site on northeast Vancouver Island
(Fig. 3.10-21) which has an early Holocene component dating to 8,200 RCYBP
(Carlson 1979, 2003). The site has been divided into three temporal components
spanning the past 8,200 years, but only a single date has been obtained from the
earliest period. Similar to Namu, the earliest component is embedded in a greasy,
black silt and does not contain preserved faunal remains. The early component
artefact assemblage is characterized by cobble, core and unifacial flake tools, and
leaf-shaped bifacial points.
Glenrose Cannery
The Glenrose Cannery site (DgRr-6) is on the Fraser River and now lies some
20 km from the eastern shore of the Salish Sea (Fig. 3.10-22), but when first
occupied about 8,150 RCYBP, it would have been adjacent to salt water as the
Fraser delta had not yet formed (Matson 1996:111). The earliest Old Cordilleran
component includes leaf-shaped and stemmed bifaces, cobble tools, and sugges-
tions of a well-developed bone and antler industry, including barbed points, antler
wedges, and an anthropomorphic antler haft. The faunal remains assigned to this
component include 28% salmon, though whether these belong to the 8,000-year-old
deposits or more recent ones is unresolved (Matson 1996:117).
Stave Lake Holocene Sites
DhRn-29, one of the Stave Watershed sites (Fig. 3.10-6) described above with dates
older than 10,000 RCYBP, also has produced a number of early Holocene dates
between 8,900 and 9,270 RCYBP. McLaren also reports on four other sites with
dates between 10,000 and 7,000 RCYBP: DhRn-16 (8,990 ± 46 RCYBP), DhRn-21
(8,702 ± 43 RCYBP), DhRo-11 (9,075 ± 45 RCYBP), and DhRo-53 (7,748 ± 43 and
7,222 ± 59 RCYBP) (McLaren et al. 2008). Cultural material from these early
Holocene test excavations consisted of flakes and shattered flakes with the exception
of DhRo-53 where microblades were also found. These sites are among the numerous
sites exposed by reservoir draw-down (Fig. 3.13). Despite the generally deflated
nature of the reservoir, intact subsurface cultural remains from across the Holocene
have been found in a number of locations (McLaren 2003; McLaren et al. 2008).
Milliken
The Milliken site (DjRi-3) is located in the Fraser Canyon approximately

125 km inland from its current mouth (Fig. 3.10-23). Almost 18 m of river
gravels containing cultural deposits are exposed, the bottom-most component of
76 Q. Mackie et al.
Fig. 3.13 Examples of surface-collected stemmed projectile point fragments from the Stave area.
Drawings by D. McLaren
which represents the Milliken phase (Borden 1975). Dates from this phase range
between 7,050 and 9,080 RCYBP (Mitchell and Pokotylo 1996). The early lithic
component is essentially indistinguishable from that at Glenrose, being largely
composed of pebble tools, with diagnostic leaf-shaped bifaces (Matson 1996).
The location of this site in the lower Fraser Canyon strongly suggests that it
functioned as a salmon procurement and processing station, a notion reinforced
by some late summer seasonality indicators such as carbonized wild cherry pits
and by the presence of numerous stake molds throughout the sequence, includ-
ing the lowest component (Mitchell and Pokotylo 1996:73). These may be the
remains of fish drying racks, although Mitchell and Pokotylo (1996:79) note that
most of the lithic evidence is consistent with hunting and that there is no direct
evidence for salmon procurement during this time. Nonetheless, the site is com-
parable in many ways to contemporaneous sites at the Columbia River Dalles,
whose functions unequivocally included salmon fishing camps (Butler and
O’Connor 2004), probably acquired by some form of dip-netting based on the
canyon setting.
Methods for Finding Early Coastal Sites
As a consequence of low visibility and accessibility, thirty-plus years of archaeo-

logical investigations on the BC Coast have yielded only a small number of
serendipitous instances where early Holocene site locations have been found
(e.g. Namu, Arrow Creek, and Bear Cove). These sites are located in proximity to
late Holocene components and were not the result of focused research programmes
aimed at identifying early Holocene sites, a similar pattern to the more general
conclusions of Hall and McCarthy (2002). A suite of imaging and remote sensing
techniques, however, is revolutionizing the way archaeologists model for, and
locate, late Pleistocene and early Holocene archaeological sites above and below
the present shore line.
Imaging Tools and Remote Sensing Techniques
Off-the-Shelf Maps
The best “off-the-shelf” maps for British Columbia are the TRIM series of 1:20,000
topographic sheets with 20-m contours and marine charts, typically at 1:20,000
scale, for intertidal and subtidal data. While useful for planning purposes, the
TRIM maps are very coarse, especially vertically, for accurate targeting of archaeo-
logical potential zones. Similarly, nautical charts, while ranging in scale, have very
poor vertical resolution. While searching along the modern coastline is fairly
straightforward with existing tools, for reasons explained above, site reconnais-
sance above and below the coastal strip is hampered by uncertain inherent potential
and unknown survivorship, making higher resolution topography a valuable tool for
narrowing search zones.
High-Resolution Photogrammetric Contour Mapping
One relatively simple and proven method for obtaining higher resolution topo
graphy (though one that is perhaps underexploited) is the derivation of 1 or 2-m
contour interval maps from existing air photos. This method was successfully
applied by Fedje and Christensen (1999) in Haida Gwaii and McLaren (2008) in
the Dundas Archipelago. In both cases, sites dating to greater than 9,000 RCYBP
old were found. McLaren’s research with 2-m intervals and use of a marine regres-
sion model based on his own sea level curve is notable in that, despite substantial
work on the inner coast of northern British Columbia, previous work had found no
sites older than 5,000 RCYBP.
Lidar
Light distancing and ranging (Lidar) is a remote sensing tool analogous to swath
bathymetry which has seen some recent application in archaeology worldwide.
In Lidar, an aircraft-borne instrument emits laser pulses at frequencies up to
50,000 Hz. The time taken for the laser pulse to reflect back to the instrument is
78 Q. Mackie et al.
proportional to the distance between the instrument and the reflecting surface. The
aircraft then flies overlapping transects recording three-dimensional data based on
the laser probes.
Sophisticated inertial sensors and Differential GPS mean the pitch, yaw, and
other movements of the plane can be accurately measured and a stable datum can be
precisely retrofitted to the flight line. The dense rainforest of the Northwest Coast
means that almost all the laser returns are of vegetation, primarily the top of the for-
est canopy. However, in even a very dense forest, there is some sky visible from the
forest floor, and even the smallest patch of sky is a potential path for the laser pulse
to penetrate through the canopy and to the ground surface. Thus, a small percentage
of the “cloud” of X–Y–Z laser-derived points are of the ground surface and these can
be algorithmically extracted from those points which measure vegetation. The result
is a “bare earth” model of the landform with trees digitally removed. This DEM,
which typically has vertical resolution better than 50 cm, has great potential for lead-
ing archaeologists to zones of high archaeological potential (Mackie et al. 2007;
Eldridge and Anaya-Hernandez 2004; Sanders 2009). Unlike photogrammetry,
Lidar can be easily (though expensively) obtained for large regions.
Multi-Beam Swath Bathymetry
Multibeam swath bathymetry is an essential tool for continental shelf research

and has been applied in various archaeological applications in recent years.
A ship-mounted instrument emits a fan-shaped pattern of sonar pulses to the sea
floor. As the ship runs “swaths” (transects) back and forth, a highly detailed set
of measurements is built up. Inertial sensors and differential GPS aboard the ship
allow for incidental movements to be accounted for, leaving highly accurate
positional data for the instrument. The result is data at sub-metre resolution to
most depths relevant to Pleistocene archaeology, from which derived DEMs can
reveal intact terrestrial landforms which are now deeply drowned. From these,
archaeologists can assess both the inherent potential of the landform and the
likely visibility of any ensuing archaeological remains. For the former, use of
appropriate ethnographic analogies and ethnological generalizations is essential;
for the latter, then applying sidescan sonar or seismic tracks to determine benthic
sedimentation regimes is a useful adjunct to the multibeam DEM. Through these
means, it is possible to build a map of archaeological potential zones for the
seafloor. Testing of these zones can take several forms, including dredge sampling,
ROV and/or submersible visits, and SCUBA. Multi-beam bathymetry has guided
underwater archaeological research around Haida Gwaii starting in the late 1990s
(e.g. Fedje and Josenhans 2000). Currently, the data sets and expertise are in
place to investigate the seafloor near Gaadu Din 1 and 2, which has been assessed
for potential using multi-beam, sidescan, and seismic sensing, as well as direct
assessment by SCUBA, ROV, and submersible, laying the groundwork for
recovery of sediments to the surface.
Applications on the Northwest Coast
The Northwest Coast poses significant problems in the visibility of the early
archaeological record and data recovery, which demand new reconnaissance and
modelling tools to overcome. By combining detailed palaeoenvironmental knowl-
edge with high-resolution imagery and remote sensing techniques, archaeologists
can successfully target those landforms with the highest potential for early sites.
Assessing the archaeological potential of a landform includes two basic
components: inherent potential (the likelihood of people using the landform and
depositing material culture) and archaeological visibility (the likelihood of mate-
rial remains surviving site formation processes into the present and/or the mate-
rial remains not being too deeply buried or drowned (Fedje et al. 2004a)). If
conventional inland reconnaissance does not consider palaeoenvironmental his-
tory, it will disproportionately take place in zones of uncertain or low archaeo-
logical potential for early Holocene or late Pleistocene sites. But once the
palaeoenvironmental history (and particularly sea-level history for coastal BC) is
considered, the inherent potential of surviving landforms can be identified. The
inherent potential and archaeological visibility assessments may be further refined
through the use of imaging and remote sensing techniques allowing archaeolo-
gists to better examine and evaluate drowned locations and those stranded on
inland terraces or obscured by vegetation.
We now have the methods to target locations on the coast for particular time
periods. Shoreline sites dating to the late Pleistocene, for example, are deeply
drowned in some locations such as Haida Gwaii (to −150 m), Barkley Sound (to
−46 m), and the Salish Sea (to −25 m). While the deepest sites in Haida Gwaii are
mostly out of reach to SCUBA, those in Barkley Sound and certainly the Salish Sea
(Gulf and San Juan Islands) are more accessible to dive teams and ROVs. Swath
bathymetry highlights those locations with inherent archaeological potential such
as lake shores, river valleys, and deltas, while sidescan and seismic transects can
distinguish lag surfaces from ones deeply buried by marine sedimentation. In Haida
Gwaii, however, several early Holocene sites dating to a brief window around 9,500
RCYBP are presently in the intertidal zone and often visible as intertidal lithic
scatters or intact deposits accessible through shovel testing or excavation. (See case
study below for discussion of submerged site investigation in Haida Gwaii).
In other parts of BC such as the Dundas Islands, Prince Rupert, the northern
Salish Sea, and the Fraser lowlands, late Pleistocene shoreline sites will be stranded
on raised coastal features which may be readily visible using Lidar and photo-
grammetric contour mapping allowing for targeted ground reconnaissance. For
areas such as Haida Gwaii where the earliest archaeological sites are drowned, the
task becomes to look for geologically stable inland features that would have been
attractive to people during early post-glacial time. These include caves, palaeo-lake
shores, and lookout sites on high promontories, and while often difficult to locate
during ground reconnaissance, are again much more visible using remote sensing
techniques and targeted ground reconnaissance.
80 Q. Mackie et al.
Case Study 1: Locating and Sampling Submerged Archaeological Sites
In those areas where sea level has risen during likely windows of human occupation,
much of the archaeological record is now drowned to depths of over 100 m. Such
depths are challenging to work at under any circumstances, but especially when
target sites, most likely to be campsites consisting of hearths and stone tools, are
small, at least by the standards of underwater archaeology. As such, they are
difficult or impossible to locate solely by remote means such as sidescan sonar,
which is very effective for locating larger and protruding targets like shipwrecks.
This constraint means that an initial stage of underwater reconnaissance is to create
an archaeological potential model of the seafloor, taking into account both compo-
nents of archaeological visibility noted above. The most appropriate tools are high-
resolution swath bathymetry to create a sub-metre DEM, sidescan sonar that can
reveal details of benthic texture, and seismic sub-bottom profilers that can show
deeper sedimentation patterns. With these tools working together, then a potential
model based on topography and sediments is possible. Zones of high potential
can then be tested using SCUBA, remote vehicles, clamshell bucket dredge
sampling, and similar means. By carefully preparing the potential model, the “hay-
stack” is made smaller. The “needles” subsequently become easier to find, although
these imaging tools are very unlikely to directly detect the Pleistocene material
remains.
Use of an IKU sampler (Fig. 3.7), operated from the surface and targeted
towards submerged zones of high potential (Fig. 3.3d), has been successful in
recovering a single flake tool from a river terrace at 53 m depth (Fedje and
Josenhans 2000). This one positive test should be considered in the context of over
100 negative tests, conducted in 1998 and 1999. Empirically, then, success rate is
<1% using the IKU device. More abstractly, we can crudely simulate the effect
of dropping the IKU bucket onto the two best known, and two of the largest, of
the 9,500 RCYBP intertidal lithic sites: Kilgii Gwaay and Collison Bay. These are
good analogues for submerged sites as they both were occupied during a time of
rapid sea level rise, comparable to more deeply drowned sites. Both are located on
highly attractive landforms consisting of (now intertidal) near-shore terraces with
southern exposure. Perhaps most importantly, both sites are protected from high
wave energies at present, and thus during past marine transgression. Indeed, the
intact subsurface deposits at Kilgii Gwaay and Collison Bay make them exemplars
of the kinds of conditions which may permit sites to survive both transgression and
10,000 years of being drowned at depths up to 15 m. Inherent potential and visibil-
ity are thus high at both sites.
Table 3.3 gives the basic parameters of these sites. Accurate figures for site area
and count of artefacts for all 112 known intertidal lithic sites are not available, but
experience suggests these two sites are at the high end for artefact density and for
modelling potential. Kilgii Gwaay measures about 3,200 m2 and about 1,800 lith-
ics have been recovered from the surface of this site. Rounding the size of the IKU
to 0.5 m2 means that, on average, one artefact would be recovered for every 3.5
grab samples. For Collison Bay, the comparable figure is one artefact for every
Table 3.3 The probability of encountering submerged archaeological deposits using

a 50 × 100-cm IKU grab sampling device based on known intertidal sites in southern
Haida Gwaii (ca. 9,500 RCYBP)
Kilgii Gwaay Collison Bay
Site area in square metres 3,200.00 1,600.00
Number of artefacts on surface 1,800.00 195.00
Artefacts per square metre surface 0.56 0.12
Artefacts per IKU (0.5 m2) grab 0.28 0.06
Number of grabs for 1 artefact 3.56 16.41
16.4 grab samples. These figures neither take into account the vertical penetration
of the IKU, which may be up to 1 m in ideal conditions, nor does it take into
account several other features of these sites. At Kilgii Gwaay, a large area of the
central site is the surface of an ancient pond on which very few artefacts were
found, meaning grabs accurately targeted to this central area would almost cer-
tainly be negative. At both Kilgii and Collison, significant portions of the site,
including some of the most artefact-rich, are covered by very large cobbles and
small boulders, which would defeat the IKU by defeating closure of the bucket,
preventing retrieval of fine sediments and associated artefacts. These conditions
might well be shared by drowned sites as well. Drowned sites may also be covered
with marine sediments of unknown depth, which would reduce the efficacy of the
grab sampling programme. For example, of the ca. 100 IKU tests in Juan Perez
Sound, over one half of the tests recovered only marine sediment or a single cob-
ble that prevented closure of the bucket. Furthermore, with increasing depths, the
accuracy of the IKU drop can vary within uncertain limits – while the ship can be
positioned accurately to a few metres relative to the seafloor potential model, cur-
rents and dredge bucket “flutter” means that the actual accuracy of the bucket on
the bottom may be on the order of a 10 m radius. All things considered, while
crude, our calculations suggest that, at best, an order of 5–10 grab samples per
submarine target is probably necessary to have a statistically likely chance of
recovering artefacts. This translates into approximately 10–20 grab sample
attempts, and thus one half to one day of ship time per target.
On other continental shelves, such as the North Sea, Australia, and the Gulf of
Mexico, archaeologists have created more systematic models of site survivorship
through marine transgressions. Ward and Larcombe (2008:67), for example,
tabulate 18 geomorphological settings and evaluate the likely impact of marine
transgression and subsequent current and tidal actions on associated archaeological
sites. They further evaluate existing and potential anthropogenic impacts on the sea
floor, such as trawling, dredging, aggregate extraction, and windfarms, resulting in
a “general preservation rating” (2008:78) for select areas of the drowned North Sea
plain. Their criteria (and the more detailed ones in Dix et al. 2008:146–195) could
readily be modified for use on the Northwest Coast, where similar anthropogenic
disturbances are starting to result in impact assessments of drowned archaeological
resources. Nutley (2005) has tabulated an interesting suite of factors affecting
Southeast Australian sites inundated during the Holocene. Nutley points out that
82 Q. Mackie et al.
stone wall fishtraps and wooden fishweirs in mature fluvial settings may be viable
targets for underwater archaeology due to their size and the necessary low-energy
riverine or shoreflat ecological settings they occupy, while lithic sites are resistant
to decay but not to translocation. Numerous mid-to-late Holocene wood stake and
stone wall fishweirs are known from the Northwest Coast (Eldridge and Acheson
1992; Moss et al. 1990; Moss and Erlandson 1998), so application of Nutley’s
principles of preservation may well be transferable. Fedje et al. (1996:129)
observed a stone wall in a ca. 9,010 estuarine setting that may be an example of
such a feature. Nutley (2005:16) also discusses the impact of tsunamis and cyclonic
storm-surges on coastal sites, referring to empirical data collected after the 1998
and 1999 cyclone seasons and the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. In the Gulf of
Mexico, Faught (2004) and Stright (1986, 1990), among others, have formulated
post-hoc criteria for survivorship of palaeoindian archaeological sites on the sea
floor. More empirically, as discussed below, in southern Haida Gwaii, over 100
early Holocene archaeological sites are known from the intertidal zone (Mackie and
Sumpter 2005). Each one is a lesson in the conditions by which archaeological sites
survive transgressive and submarine processes and are now undergoing regressive
ones. Additionally, the lower layers of raised beach sites such as Richardson Island
were in the middle to upper intertidal zone for several thousand years of the high
stand. Protected by a gravel blanket, numerous delicate hearth features and pristine
lithics survived partial inundation. Together, such sites could form the basis for an
inductive model balancing inherent potential with site visibility (Mackie and Fedje
2008). Many of these studies on inundational and submarine site formation
processes are brought together and discussed in terms of overall continental shelf
characteristics by Bailey and Flemming (2008). Taken together, there is an emerging,
rich literature on the question of drowned archaeological site visibility, which is
moving underwater archaeological method beyond those applicable to shipwrecks;
coastal British Columbia has considerable, unrealized potential to generate and
test these ideas.
Case Study 2: Locating and Sampling Terrestrial Archaeological Sites
High-resolution topographic tools such as photogrammetric contours and Lidar are

important for finding and assessing remnant Pleistocene and early Holocene geomor-
phology in areas that are currently subaerial. As described above, there was rapid and
significant environmental change across the Pleistocene-Holocene boundary and
leading towards the present. Changing sea level means most zones of potential are
either drowned or stranded inland. Modern vegetation cover is typically a very dense
temperate rainforest with a thick humic layer obscuring mineral soils and earlier
buried soil horizons from times of different vegetational regimes. The wet rainforest
soils are acidic and even shell components will degrade over time, leaving little other
than stone, charcoal, ash, and calcined bone. It is not uncommon for there to be more
than 50–100 cm of recent organic overburden woven together with dense root
matting. Millennia of terrestrial erosional processes have obscured the clarity of any
Fig. 3.14 Almost 2 m of peat overlies an early post-glacial beach in a raised marine section,
at 50 m above modern sea level, near Prince Rupert. Q. Mackie photo
palaeo-coastal landforms, especially when viewed from ground level. Peat development
of up to 2 m (Fig. 3.14) through the Holocene obscures many zones which are attrac-
tive to humans, such as beaches and the margins of small lakes or other lowlands. Soil
exposures are usually small and isolated, meaning that site reconnaissance must rely
largely on shovel testing and augers, supplemented with opportunistic inspection of
tree-throws and creek channels. Overall, it is difficult to get an extensive view of
surface or subsurface zones of potential. Under such circumstances, accurate knowl-
edge and modelling of the terrestrial surface is essential, and it may be best to couple
this to a high resolution sea-level history. One goal would be to target palaeo-marine
features that are now stranded in the forest, especially those with very high potential
for human occupation, such as tombolos, berms, spits, and sheltered embayments
with fresh water access. Another goal might be to model for inland “magnets” which
are on neither the modern or palaeo coast, yet which would be stable landform
features drawing people in from the coast to knowable locales. Such inland features
include promontories, which afford a lookout or view, and karst landscapes, which
afford the potential for limestone caves with their attendant resources, such as denning
bears. River terraces and lake shores can also be modelled.
Recent research in the Dundas Island Group exemplifies the palaeo-marine
approach (McLaren 2008). This archipelago has a very different sea-level history
from Haida Gwaii, despite a separation of less than 100 km. The difference
84 Q. Mackie et al.
results from the Dundas Islands being closer to the Cordilleran Ice sheet: whereas
Haida Gwaii was isostatically forebulged upwards during the late Pleistocene, thus
accounting for the lower relative sea levels, the mainland to the east was isostatically
depressed, thus raising relative late Pleistocene sea level (Barrie and Conway 2002;
Clague 1984; Fedje et al. 2005b; Hetherington et al. 2004). The Dundas Islands,
partway between these two areas, is situated in a type of sea level “hinge” where it
was hypothesized that limited sea level change occurred during the late Pleistocene
(Fedje et al. 2004b; McLaren 2008). A research programme employing isolation
lake basin and peat coring was employed on the Dundas Islands to test the possibility
that this area was like a sea level hinge (Fedje et al. 2004b; McLaren 2008). Based
on biostratigraphic changes in diatom frequencies and supporting proxy indicators,
this research resulted in the identification of a gentle regression in sea level from
13 m above sea level to present sea level since 12,385 RCYBP (Fig. 3.15).
Selected areas within the archipelago were chosen for the creation of high-
resolution (2-m contour interval) topographic maps, derived from existing aerial
photography. This relatively cheap method allowed the sea-level curve to be
Fig. 3.15 Dundas Islands Sea level curve based on palaeoenvironmental proxy indicators from
lake, peat cores and archaeological samples (modified from McLaren 2008)
c oupled to a fine-grained knowledge of the land surface, and targeting of suitable

elevations, some of them well inland, was made possible (McLaren 2008;
Martindale et al. 2009). Among the archaeological sites found were several shell
middens in raised beach contexts dating to the middle Holocene and, in particular,
the site at Far West Point with basal dates to 9,690 RCYBP (McLaren 2008). The
elevations of all radiocarbon samples from archaeological sites provided proxy data
allowing for refinement of the sea-level curve created from lake coring.
Prior to this study, the earliest known archaeological sites on the northern coast of
British Columbia, including the well-researched Prince Rupert harbour and Skeena
River subregions, were about 5,000 RCYBP, which demonstrates the utility of the
palaeoenvironmental and cartographic background approach used by McLaren.
A similar programme in Haida Gwaii was also successful in using 1 m photogram-
metric contours to identify raised beach sites on raised marine terraces, such as the
Lyell Bay sites noted above (Fedje and Christensen 1999). The method is therefore
conceptually simple, but requires interdisciplinary work.
More recently, Lidar data have become available for some areas on the coast.
The Lidar bare-earth models, with their sub-metre vertical resolution, surpass
the photogrammetric method in accuracy and readily allow for the creation of
sun-shaded digital elevation models which greatly help in visualization of the
landform and detection of features of interest. A proposal and pilot project to use
Lidar-derived DEMs to find promontory sites which overlook the ancient coastal
plain (Mackie et al. 2007) was implemented by Sanders (2009). Argonaut Hill is
a large, heavily forested glacial outwash remnant 130 m high near the northeastern
coast of Haida Gwaii. While no lookout sites were found in a brief survey, the
ancillary Lidar modelling of early Holocene coastlines along the base of
Argonaut Hill did result in the quick and efficient discovery of several lithic
sites. From one of these, the Forks site (Figs. 3.10-17 and 3.16), date samples
ranging from 3,925 to 7,140 RCYBP were recovered. This small study demon-
strated that Lidar was a very effective tool at leading archaeologists directly to
palaeo-coastal landforms of interest underneath dense forest canopies situated
over a kilometre from modern shorelines.
Lidar can also be used to detect developed surficial karst (Mackie et al. 2007;
Langendoen and Baichtal 2004; Montané 2002) even under dense forest canopy,
which would in many cases lead researchers directly to areas of very high potential
for karst caves and any associated archaeological materials. Because of the
expense, Lidar data only exist for selected areas of the BC Coast (notably, NW
Haida Gwaii and some areas around southern Vancouver Island; large Lidar data-
sets for southeast Alaska and Puget Sound are available). With demonstrated
utility across multiple resource management sectors, Lidar will likely be flown
pre-emptively for many more areas, as it has already been in the NE sector of the
Province (Eldridge and Anaya-Hernandez 2004). Other remote sensing technolo-
gies, such as the use of thermal imaging to detect cave exurgences, may also come
to the foreground in the near future, enabling archaeologists to carefully target
those specific inland terrain features with the very highest archaeological potential
(Fedje et al. 2004a).
86 Q. Mackie et al.
Fig. 3.16 Lidar-derived bare earth model of Argonaut Hill and environs. Lidar image from Terra
Imaging
Discussion
Using the above methods, high-resolution imagery can efficiently lead archaeologists
to landforms of the highest potential classes, such as stranded beach ridges, terres-
trial promontories, developed karst and sinkholes, and both raised and drowned
palaeo-river terraces. Since few early sites are now known, the first application of
these technologies will likely continue to be “high grading” for the best combination
of inherent potential and likely archaeological visibility. As more sites are found,
then these methods can expand in utility to include explaining site location in micro-
environmental terms and set in motion a virtuous circle of modelling and ground-
truthing of models for the Pleistocene-Holocene transition. In this, we are optimistic
that the archaeological record of the Pleistocene Northwest Coast can, indeed,
be empirically investigated. By extension, empirical evidence concerning the
coastal route of the first peopling of the Americas can and, we think will, be found.
The modelling tools and emerging environmental and archaeological data which
form the basis of this chapter suggest that the time is right for intelligent selection
of high potential zones on the coast for intensive archaeological reconnaissance.
In a broader context, we perceive three topics that influence how archaeologists
think about this topic: the finer-grained nature of the “coastal plain”, the mode and
tempo of the “first peopling” process, and the use of appropriate ethnographic
analogies. These orienting constructs strongly influence how and where future
researchers will focus their attention and thereby these are crucial for determining
their likely success or failure. We will discuss each of these in turn.
The Coastal Plain
Some themes are common when archaeologists who study First Peopling processes
invoke the environmental characteristics of coastlines. As summarized by Westley
and Dix (2006), these include:
1. Coasts provide more equable climatic conditions than inland areas (e.g. Fladmark
1979).
2. Coasts provide more stable habitats than inland areas (e.g. Yesner 1980; Stringer
2000).
3. Coastal environments are relatively uniform along the length of a coastline
(e.g. Stringer 2000; Mannino and Thomas 2002).
4. Coasts have a diverse, and often more productive, array of resources compared
to inland routes due to their ecotone (boundary between two ecosystems, hence
combining characteristics of each) status (e.g. Bailey and Parkington 1988;
Flemming et al. 2003).
5. The restricted topography of coasts (i.e. the presence of the sea) focuses migra-
tion routes and simplifies navigation (e.g. Mithen and Reed 2002; Kelly 2003).
However, they go on to note, “it is now apparent that coastlines may have been
characterized by periods of intense spatial and temporal instability that would
almost certainly have been perceivable by past humans” (Westley and Dix 2006:24)
and more nuanced appreciation of coastlines is needed.
Indeed, the early post-glacial coastline of the Northwest Coast area has variously
been described as a highway (Erlandson et al. 2007); a corridor (Dixon 2001:295);
a plain (Hetherington et al. 2003; Schalk et al. 2007; Bailey and Flemming
2008:2158 – “an extensive coastal plain”); and a single large megapatch from
Alaska to Chile (Dixon 2001). The implication is that its over-riding characteristics
are low-relief, easy transportation, linearity, homogeneity, and productivity. It may
have been all or none of these at all times, or sequentially. The terminology used –
corridor, highway, etc. – is important because it structures how archaeologists think
about the environment and its affordances for people and animals, which in turn
influences how they create ethnographic analogies and settlement models and thereby
how ancient sites now in difficult or obscure modern settings might be found.
88 Q. Mackie et al.
In the following section, we divide the BC palaeo-coast into different subregions

and environment types.
The outer coast of British Columbia appears to have been open and relatively
ice-free from ca. 18,000 to 16,000 RCYBP, partially closed from 16,000 to 14,000
RCYBP as Fraser ice overran Vancouver Island to the Continental Shelf, and per-
manently open by 13,500 RCYBP. The outer coast was not, however, a homoge-
neous environment, physically or biologically, with the possible exception of the
extreme seaward fringe and adjacent marine environment. Even this coastal strip
was, at least intermittently, hilly and interrupted by rocky headlands and fjords.
Before 12,000 RCYBP, relative sea levels were much higher than present on the
south coast, the consequence of which would have been a largely steep, rocky,
indented coastline with “plain”-type areas being limited to discontinuous fluvial/
outwash deltas. At the same time, the Hecate Lowlands saw much lower sea levels
than present and a large (perhaps about 7,000 km2) area of low-relief, temperate
tundra formed to the east of Haida Gwaii, effectively joining those islands to the
mainland. However, vegetation communities may have been more homogeneous at
this time than at any later time. The north coast was dominated by tundra and park-
land or open woodland plants, the central coast by pine-Mountain hemlock
parkland (Stolze et al. 2007), and the south coast communities would have been
similarly open (Brown and Hebda 2002). Thus, during these early times, there may
have been narrow terrestrial lowlands connecting some of the larger flat regions,
while other lowlands may have been relatively isolated from each other by rugged
terrain and the associated rocky headlands with fewer margins for those paddling
in canoes. Nonetheless, the open nature of the terrestrial vegetation may have
counterbalanced this medium-scale patchiness and allowed people and animals to
roam across the lowlands, and perhaps to follow well-defined passes or coastal
strips from one area to another. In summary, the “coastal plain” of British Columbia
during this period was broken into areas of favourable and less favourable terrestrial
conditions and favourable and less favourable coastal conditions, forming a mosaic
of large and small heterogenous environmental settings for early human arrivals.
Between 12,000 and 10,000 RCYBP, areas inland of the shore would have been
subject to rapid shifts in vegetation communities including the development of
closed coniferous forests by 11,500 BP in the environs of Haida Gwaii and northern
Vancouver Island (Lacourse et al. 2005; Lacourse 2005; Hebda 1983). More xeric
conditions on the southeast coast of Vancouver Island limited development of
closed forests (Pellatt et al. 2001). Hence, this is a period of increased patchiness
of vegetation during which large ecologically homogenous habitat zones were
broken up, including those favoured by species such as brown and short-faced bear,
caribou, and bison (Table 3.2). At the same time, rising sea levels eliminated most
of the Hecate lowlands, isolating Haida Gwaii from the mainland and leading to the
extirpation of Brown bear from those islands. Simultaneously, the lowlands in the
Salish Sea area were emerging from the ocean, creating a window of large, exposed
rolling hills and open parklands from which such species as bison, ground sloth are
known. Between these areas, sea levels were roughly similar to modern on the
central coast, producing a coastal archipelago with exposed lowlands to the west
backed by steep fjords and protected island archipelagos to the east. To the south,
the Puget lowlands may have facilitated the movement of Clovis people (Croes
et al. 2008) in, or out, of this region. Overall, the “coastal plain” is time-transgres-
sive, appearing early in northern regions and more recently to the south.
The effect of the younger Dryas is poorly understood and may be similarly
subregionally specific (Fedje et al. 2011a). Colder weather may have led to greater
snowfalls during this time, and though there is little evidence for increased glacia-
tion, winter-time travel and subsistence were likely more difficult for humans and
animals alike. On Haida Gwaii, there is evidence for the extirpation of coastal deer
around the 10,900 RCYBP onset of the Younger Dryas, perhaps due to heavier snow
cover than these small ungulates can cope with. Brown bear disappear from
Haida Gwaii around 10,200 RCYBP, perhaps reflecting reduced habitat from rising
sea levels and forest infill. In other areas, the Pleistocene faunal record is not as
well known.
It is important to consider that early post-glacial biotic communities may not have
any modern analogues (Mathewes 1991; Stewart and Lister 2001; Williams et al.
2001). Plant communities were dynamic with changes relating to varied dispersal
rates, a highly dynamic climate, and rapidly changing edaphic settings. Glacial
advances and retreats, sea-level shifts, and rapidly changing plant communities
would have created both opportunities for expansion and bottlenecks to survival for
a variety of terrestrial fauna. A “temperate tundra” with mild winters and a long
growing season may have been exceptionally productive. Rising sea levels in some
areas release iron and organic nutrients into the near-shore waters, promoting algae
growth and the development of rich intertidal invertebrate communities. It is worth
noting that in areas of falling or stable sea levels, deltas are likely to form where
rivers meet the ocean, while during rising sea levels estuaries are more likely.
It remains unclear whether or not there were biotic refugia along the BC coast.
The early post-glacial record of bear in Haida Gwaii including a date of over 14,000
RCYBP (Ramsey et al. 2004) suggests either bears survived in a necessarily large
and productive coastal refugium during the LGM, or that they were able to enter the
heartland of the NWC very soon after the ice retreated. Both scenarios are of interest
for archaeologists, since bears make a good ecological analogue for humans.
In sum, the “coastal plain” needs to be understood at various temporal and
spatial scales. At the broadest scale, it probably was a long linear zone of lower-
relief and moderate climate flanking the west coast of British Columbia. At
medium scales, the early North Coast was very different from the early South
Coast, and the nature of these two zones slowly switched over time. At somewhat
finer scales, the configuration of the coastline – its “involution index” (Mackie
2001) – may be extremely important, as may be the locational penalties and
benefits (Fedje et al. 2004a; Wobst 1974). At finer scales still, impassable head-
lands, sheltered archipelagoes, productive estuaries, migration bottlenecks, dens
of short-faced bears, and the like probably structured the daily life of people,
from which the process of first peopling is assumed to flow. In the following
section, we outline some considerations about the reconstruction of the daily life
of these early inhabitants.
90 Q. Mackie et al.
Ethnographic Analogy
The archaeology and anthropology of the Northwest Coast are dominated by the
well-known, massive, detailed works of Franz Boas and his students, and other early
ethnographers working in a Boasian idiom of historical particularism. While there
are obvious benefits to having these source data, it has arguably created a certain
naivite in coastal archaeologists when it comes to ways of life in the deeper past. The
overarching narrative of Northwest Coast archaeology, for better or worse, has been
one of progressive cultural evolution to the ethnographically described pattern of
“complex hunter-gatherers”, with large dugout canoes, monumental art and architec-
ture, private ownership of resources, social stratification, and so forth. Under this
narrative, the founding archaeological cultures are too easily conceived of as an
impoverished default condition: complex hunter-gatherers stripped of their complex
trappings. In reality, the way of life may have been qualitatively different and the
ethnographic record may be of little or no use, or even be counterproductive. For
example, Mackie and Sumpter (2005) find early Holocene and late Holocene site
locations in Haida Gwaii are almost mutually exclusive, with co-occurrence in only
18 instances in a sample of 454 such sites. Since coastal configuration was the same
then as now (e.g. protected inlets versus exposed coasts), many of the fundamental
resource suites are known to be similar. Moreover, since many of the most important
tool technologies from the early Holocene sites differ substantially from late
Holocene sites, there must have been non-trivial cultural differences to account for
such different choices in appropriate settlement sites. That is, it was not just a situa-
tion of fewer Haida with lower population densities, smaller houses, and no totem
poles or slaves living a “lightweight” version of traditional Haida life, but of a people
with similar problems and prospects enjoying a very different lifeway. With this in
mind, it is necessary to look further afield for appropriate ethnographic analogies.
Since the early Holocene archaeological record in Haida Gwaii and elsewhere is
strongly suggestive of complete fluency with marine resources and the marine
transportation environment, the search for analogies can be narrower. One candidate
group is the Yamana (Yahgan) of southern Tierra del Fuego. Living at low population
densities, highly mobile, yet utterly focused on marine resources, Yamana life
(e.g., Gusinde 1961[1931]) may form a useful framework for the Pleistocene-
Holocene transition on the Northwest Coast. While certainly the historical context
of observations about Yamana life must be considered (e.g., Yesner 2004; Mackie
2001), even the historic Yamana offer insight into alternative maritime lifeways.
For example, the much-derided Yamana canoe, made of sewn bark and noted to be
extremely leaky and somewhat wobbly, was nonetheless capable of transporting
6–10 people or a fully-grown sea lion carcass. In these boats, the Yamana routinely
ventured through the “furious fifties” to the islands and islets of the continental
shelf well south of Cape Horn, such as the 100 km voyage to the Diego Ramírez
archipelago, where they hunted pinnipeds and other prey (Gusinde 1961:128). Cape
Horn itself is part of an archipelago some 40 km separate from the major islands of
the southern cone. The leakiness and flexibility of these canoes apparently allow
them to conform slightly to the waves rather than batter or cut the sea. This comes
at the cost of speed, as the canoes were slow even when paddled by more than
the typical single person. Nonetheless, the impression given by Gusinde is of a
craft built and handled in a way suitable for the meandering lifestyle that is the
Yamana stereotype, but equal to more demanding tasks when necessary. Certainly,
such a canoe would be adequate for making a living on the Northwest Coast, now
or in the past.
Although not known to have practiced storage of food on the scale of ethno-
graphic Northwest Coast peoples, the Yamana were certainly aware of the principles
and practice of storage of both food and raw materials. For example, sea mammal
intestines would be stuffed with blubber which could then be stored in the acidic
water of bogs until needed. The energy density of such sausages must have been
enormous. Gusinde (1961:337) also describes canoe-loads of blubber from beached
whales being cut into slabs and stored in swamps, which would keep for months or
even a year. This parallels the North European practice of storing dairy and adipose
fats in the form of “bog butter” (MacAdam 1882; Cronin et al. 2007; Berstan et al.
2004). Slabs of bark from the southern elm were also cut and stored in swamps,
allowing canoe manufacture and repair at any time of the year. The Yamana
invested in fish weirs and other mass-capture devices, and a by-product of their way
of life included quite large shell middens with visible tent platforms on the surface.
The people were noted to be excellent swimmers, and one gets the impression of
frequent diving in and out of canoes to collect subtidal shellfish and other marine
invertebrates. They were familiar with all manner of bone and wood technologies
and textiles, even if they chose a fairly “lightweight” (i.e. low investment, high
flexibility) toolkit. Equally, the Pleistocene occupants of the Northwest Coast may
have had skin boats (kayaks or umiaks), not a match for the late Holocene dugouts
in speed, but perhaps just as seaworthy and capacious.
While the ancestral people to the Northwest Coast First Nations probably did not
closely resemble the Yamana any more than they resemble their ethnographic
descendents, the point remains that we must fully embrace a nuanced, global
perspective on the use of ethnographic analogy. Yesner (2004) ably compares and
contrasts the Yamana to the Aleuts, suggesting comparable levels of social
and technological achievement, while Mackie (2001) makes some comparisons
between Yamana and Tlingit. Both of these comparisons belie the ethnographic
stereotype of the Fuegians as occupying the lowest evolutionary niche of any
human group. Hence, sophisticated ethnographic analogy-building is needed on the
Northwest Coast, and we would argue, also needed in other regions where conti-
nental shelf archaeologists may look to the Northwest Coast for their analogue
maritime hunter-gatherer-fisher people.
First Peopling as a Process
Seeking to avoid naivete in ethnographic analogy and thinking about the graininess,
scale, and temporal transgression of the BC palaeo-coast should be two important
steps for furthering Northwest Coast archaeological research. However, a third
92 Q. Mackie et al.
point arises from these: what was the likely process by which the first people came
to the coast, and what behavioural parameters can we reasonably deduce which aid
with archaeological reconnaissance?
While the literature on modelling the first peopling of the Americas is large, the
majority of this takes the form of continental scale analyses of the hypothesized
interior route of entry. Fewer studies address the demographic, mobility, or other
ecological circumstances of the coastal route, and very few or none adequately
consider the various spatial and temporal scales at which human behaviour unfolds
(Westley and Dix 2006), let alone take a humanistic view of the dramatic landscape
alterations at the terminal Pleistocene (Leary 2009). And yet, the continental event
of First Peopling is a conflation of a series of regional, subregional, and local
events, and the process must therefore make sense at the human-scale of intention-
ality as well as in millennial terms. Balancing these multiple scales lies at the heart
of dissatisfaction with such models as Blitzkrieg (Martin 1973). What kept people
moving, and killing, through so many different ecological zones to get someplace
distant they did not yet know existed? Attempts to reconcile the archaeological
evidence with ethnographically plausible human models of behaviour, such as the
“string-of-pearls” and “leapfrog” models, which may depend on human dispersal
via transient exploration or estate settlement (e.g. Anderson and Gillam 2000;
Beaton 1991; Surovell 2003; Whelan 2006), are also more hypothetical than
empirical states of being. Just as we may lack analogues for the coastal plain and
for its early inhabitants’ way of life, so we lack, more generally, ethnography of the
process of First Peopling. This process took place exclusively in prehistory
(with the exception of the remote landmasses such as Antarctica) and the mode and
tempo of first peopling can be difficult to intuit. For example, in the case of the
Pacific, archaeologists have suggested both passive drift models of First Peopling
(e.g. Montenegro et al. 2008) and active, ideologically driven seeking of new
lands (e.g. Anderson 2006), and many intermediate behavioural and ecological
scenarios have also been suggested. Further, other than as vessels of fertility
(e.g. Surovell 2000), there are few systematic attempts to explicitly consider con-
straints and opportunities afforded to first peoples through such social factors as
gender roles (e.g. Waguespeck 2007; Balme and Bowdler 2006). The strange lack
of real people in the study of First Peopling allows the persistent image to remain
of the small pack of large males with spears, chasing mammoth, as the agents of
progress (Perry 2006). By facing up to the lack of ethnographic analogues, suitable
caution can be drawn into otherwise optimistic or naïve models of human territorial
expansion (see Lanata et al. 2008 for a cautious reworking of some continental
models of demographic expansion).
Nonetheless the dilemma remains that the behaviour can only be deduced from
archaeological sites, and finding such sites is dependent on understanding the
process. So, while using the best practices in understanding environmental hetero-
geneity and ethnographic analogy, there must be a concerted effort to understand
the process of first peopling. As Westley and Dix note, “the ‘site-oriented’ method
presently provides more information about the products of colonization rather than
the actual process” (2006:11). The authors rightly argue for a multi-scalar investigation
of environmental heterogeneity, suggesting that dynamism may have kept people

moving, or that stability may have allowed movement (2006:23). Another possi-
bility exists, however, exemplifying the notion that we must understand the
temporal and spatial scales and the ethnographic parallels when model-building:
the possibility that environmental dynamism offers its own comforts and opportu-
nities, and that stability itself produces ecological challenges.
For example, as discussed, a large number of sites in Haida Gwaii are known
between 11,000 and 9,000 RCYBP a time of profound vegetational and faunal
changes and rapid sea level rise. The latter change was on the order of 5 cm/year
for two millennia: the camp in which a person was born would be in the lower
intertidal zone when they died; their grandparents’ camps would be fishing spots or
reefs. Rising sea level, nibbling away at maturing forests, deposited large amounts
of wood into the water, making that key resource essentially free and constantly
exposing (then drowning) sources of suitable lithic raw material. Accepting that sea
level change was an integral part of their world, not an external imposition (Leary
2009), changes the frame from coping to dwelling. The dynamic environment, on
which there is evidence for sustained occupation and fluent use of many or all
ecological niches, was arguably an opportunity, not a cost. People dealt very well
with the dynamic environment for 2,000 years. Indeed, it is only after the onset of
the early Holocene high stand that rapid adjustments to the stone tool technology
are observed, perhaps precipitated by raw material shortage (Mackie et al. 2008;
McLaren and Smith 2008). Regardless, many of the changes in the environment
would have structured the daily life and perceptions of people – in short, their
worldview – in a way that archaeologists would be well advised to consider when
attempting to model processes for which there is little direct information, such as
the first peopling of new land and sea. The diverse, dynamic coastal environment
inhabited by these resourceful people was not primarily a “corridor”, or a “high-
way”, or a “route”, any more than Beringia was a “bridge” and not a subcontinent.
The ancient coast of BC was, above all, a place to be; a homeland of the senses for
those who were not on the way elsewhere, least of all southern Argentina.
Conclusions
Working in archaeology on the BC coast has always presented many challenges

including low archaeological visibility, dense vegetation, a deeply drowned land-
scape, terrestrial erosion processes, and acidic soils which dissolve organic remains
in decades – not to mention difficult access by boat or plane only to many of the
locales of most interest. During times of rapid environmental change, which are
many especially in the early periods, coastal dwellers may follow the shorelines.
This leads to their material remains becoming spread thinly across the landscape,
and the likelihood of much of the archaeological record becoming drowned or
stranded. Surrounded by numerous, huge late Holocene shell middens which are
blessed by exceptional preservation and often found in sheltered, south-facing
94 Q. Mackie et al.
coves, it is no wonder that the archaeology of the early Holocene has lagged behind
that of more recent times.
This late Holocene emphasis may be shifting as the Northwest Coast is recog-
nized as a key link in the first peopling of the Americas debate. The various
archaeological sites, many only described in grey literature, are now being placed
in an ever-more detailed palaeoenvironment. As factors determining site location
and visibility become better known, optimism rises that this is a time, place, and
problem amenable to empirical investigation. From this, specific and interdisci-
plinary research programmes are planned and implemented, replacing the prior
strategy of “getting lucky”, although luck is certainly still a key constituent of
success. Use of imaging tools such as multi-beam bathymetry, sidescan sonar, and
Lidar can be coupled to local environmental histories, such as sea-level curves
and cave fauna, to create micro-scale potential models and maps. With these in
hand, sites have been found in challenging locations by deliberate survey
(Fedje and Christensen 1999; McLaren 2008; Sanders 2009). There is therefore
every expectation that the near future will continue to accelerate knowledge of the
Pleistocene-Holocene BC Coast. The material cultural history of the descendent
indigenous people – The Haida, the Tsimshian, Salish, and others – will become
known. So too will the place of the Northwest Coast as both aboriginal homeland
and connective seam between Beringia and North America.
Acknowledgments Haida Gwaii work was supported by Gwaii Haanas National Park/Haida
Heritage Site, Parks Canada Archaeological Services, the Council of the Haida Nation, the
Anthropology Department at the University of Victoria, and Canada Social Sciences and
Humanities Research Council grants 410-2001-0898 and 410-2005-0778. Work in the Stave
Lake area was supported by BC Hydro and the Kwantlen First Nation. We thank Audrey
Dallimore and the Geological Survey of Canada for access to the Barkley Sound sea level model-
ing data. We also acknowledge the work of the many archaeologists and paleoecologists who
worked with us as well as those researchers who came before and whose work enabled us to
move forward in our understanding of the early history of the BC coast and environs. We would
also like to thank John Southon and colleagues at the University of California (Irvine and
Livermore) who conducted much of the radiocarbon dating used in building this history (including
many gratis dates obtained as part of our joint research into the marine reservoir history for the
region). We also thank the editors for involving us in this volume.
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Chapter 4
Blessing the Salmon: Archaeological Evidences
of the Transition to Intensive Fishing in the Final
Paleolithic, Maritime Region, Russian Far East
Andrei V. Tabarev
Introduction
From the end of Pleistocene local cultures in the Russian Far East demonstrated
technological complexity with a number of innovations reflecting the dynamic
evolution of economic and social structures of their society. Among economic
models, the intensive seasonal salmon-fishing takes a special place in research and
analysis. Rich ethnographical data on the aboriginal cultures over the North Pacific
basin (both Asian and American) gives us very interesting pictures of highly devel-
oped systems of salmon exploitation along with the ceremonial and ritual activities
(for example, Kroeber 1925; Kroeber and Barrett 1960; Stewart 1997; Swezey and
Heizer 1997; Watanabe 1972; etc.).
Aboriginals on the both coasts of the Northern Pacific used to bless the salmon
and recognized it as the main food item. Legends and tales about salmon are
strikingly similar among people all over the Northern Pacific. They believed that
“red fish” was living in the World of Salmon, that there were several tribes of
salmon in this world operated by chiefs and Masters of Salmon.
Biological investigations strongly point on the Far Eastern seas as the cradle of
salmon. Six species of Oncorhynchus – O.masou, O.tschawyscha, O.kisutch,
O.gorbusha, O.keta and O.nerka used to spawn in the coastal streams of Western
Pacific and only five in Eastern. O.masou is recognized as the oldest species
(Mother of Salmon) and it is absent on the North American coast
American specialists agree that the phenomenon of salmon-fishing has its roots
in the very early period of the peopling of North America. Faunal remains were
found on a number of archaeological sites along the Pacific coast of Alaska and
British Columbia, and dated as early as 10,000 RCYBP (Carlson 2003; Matson and
Coupland 1995; Vasilievsky 1998).
A.V. Tabarev (*)
Institute of Archaeology and Ethnography, Novosibirsk, Russia
106 A.V. Tabarev
What do we really know about the origin of salmon-fishing in the Far East? Do we
have data to suggest that Far East was the first region in the Northern Pacific where
ancient cultures flourished thanks to summer–autumn salmon fish harvesting?
During recent years the author of this chapter is trying to gather and to interpret
various archaeological information, and to prove the high importance of salmon-
fishing in development of ancient technologies (stone, clay, organic), in the origin
of semisettled way of life and early complex societies, in the invention of water
transport, in the intensity of distant migrations, in specific forms of art and rituals
(Tabarev 2001, 2003, 2006, 2007).
Cultural Chronology of the Russian Far East
A huge territory of Northeast Asia called the “Russian Far East” includes several
big geographical regions – the Amur Region (Middle Amur and Lower Amur
River), Maritime Region (Primorye), and Sakhalin Island. Kamchatka Peninsula
and Chukotka Peninsula usually are connected with the term “Extreme Northeast.”
The first archaeological investigations started in the Russian Far East about 130
years ago, and today specialists have a clearer panorama of prehistoric cultures and
traditions from the Upper (Late) Paleolithic* sites to the early historic period.
*
Upper Paleolithic sites are rare, and are presented by a small number of open and
cave locations with pebble industries and small quantity of faunal remains. Anyway
some of them gave pretty good materials for 14C dating. For example, carbon dates
from the levels with stone artifacts in Geographical Society Cave (Maritime Region)
were recently dated by bones (Pantera tigris, Crocuta spelaea and Mammoth primi-
genius) as early as 40,000–38,000 RCYBP (Kuzmin 2005: 56–58).
The Final Paleolithic dates just after the LGM, 17,000–16,000 RCYBP and
continues until 3,000 RCYBP. More than 15,000 years ago the inhabitants of the
region adapted to a variety of natural landscapes – forests, mountains, lakes, river
valleys, sea banks, plains, etc. (Tabarev 2007). The boundary between the Neolithic
is complicated by the early appearance of pottery around 13,000 RCYBP. This has
changed traditional points of view and the understanding of the Neolithic in its classic
version (so-called “Neolithic Revolution”). The arrival of agriculture was relatively
late (about 5,000–4,500 RCYBP) and the production of food was not the main strat-
egy until the colonization of the Far East by Russian settlers during the nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries.
Archaeological Materials
Specialists identify several original Final Paleolithic and Neolithic “cultures” in the
Russian Far East – groups of sites with specific traits in lithic industry, dates and
locations (Fig. 4.1).
Both terms are in use in Russian archaeological literature.

*
4 Blessing the Salmon: Archaeological Evidences of the Transition to Intensive Fishing 107
Fig. 4.1 1 – Northern Pacific and the territory of salmon fish runs; 2 – Russian Far East, cultures
and sites mentioned in the text (1 – Selemja culture, 2 – Gromatukha culture, 3 – Novopetrovka
culture, 4 – Osipovka culture, 5 – Ustinovka culture, 6 – Ogon’ki culture, 7 – Ushki Lake site)
Selemja (Selemjinskaya) culture – (24,000–12,000 RCYBP) is the oldest culture

(cultural tradition) in the region. Several groups of sites were investigated by archae-
ologists during the 1980s on the Selemja River and its tributaries. In spite of huge
collections of stone artifacts and debitage there are just a few remains of possible
dwelling constructions or shelters. Most of the sites represent seasonal camps on the
river banks and may be interpreted as traces of complex hunting-fishing activities of
the inhabitants. Among the stone implements, wood-working tools (adzes, axes),
bifacial knives, and microblades for composite tools stand out (Tabarev 1997).
According to stratigraphical and technological observation the Selemja culture may
be divided into several cultural stages.
Gromatukha (Gromatukhinskaya) culture – (13,000–4,000 RCYBP). This cul-
ture got its name after the principle site (Gromatukha) excavated in late 1960s and
recently during early 2000s.. There are also a dozen known sites with similar mate-
rials in the Middle Amur Region tested with small-scale units and trenches. The
108 A.V. Tabarev
Gromatukha Site itself is multilevel and has a record of cultural evolution spanning
several 1,000 years. In the lowest horizon the lithic industry is characterized by
typical Final Paleolithic assemblage – wedge-shaped microcores, transverse burins,
bifacial knives, points, end scrapers, and gravers. There are also lots of heavy
wood-working tools – axes, adzes and chisels – with typical use-wear traces.
Unfortunately, there is no evidence of any dwellings or structures at the site.
Many concentrations of debitage and preforms have been interpreted as flintknap-
ping areas. These are associated with concentrations of charcoal, likely hearths.
These characteristics indicate that people of Gromatukha culture were mobile for-
agers with a seasonal focus on fishing (salmon) occupying temporary camps with
light surface dwelling constructions.
Detailed stratigraphical observation and analysis of the distribution of the archae-
ological materials done after the excavation places the limited number of primitive
pottery sherds in the levels dated 13,000 RCYBP. If confirmed, Gromatukha may
have one of the earliest examples of pottery-making in the Russian Far East.
Additional fragments of pottery were found during recent stage of excavation and
confirmed these conclusions. Pottery was apparently invented in northeast Asia and
used by forest hunters and river fishers in the very end of the Pleistocene (13,000
RCYBP). Early pottery has been dated 12,500–11,000 RCYBP nearby in both the
Upper and Lower Amur (Kuzmin 2003). Until 3,000–2,000 RCYBP it was not con-
nected with a food production economy.
The development of semisettled way of life of the ancient people in the Far East
likely appeared within the Novopetrovka (Novopetrovskaya) culture. This culture is
one of the most interesting Neolithic ones in the Russian Far East. Three sites
(Novopetrovka-I-III) with remains of subterranean dwellings were located and
studied in late 1960s and early 2000s near the Novopetrovka village on Dunaika
river (Amur tributary) close to Russian-Chinese border. All the dwellings are of
rectangular configuration (usually not bigger than 7 × 6 m) with the sets of visible
postholes around the walls and a fireplace in the middle. The dwellings have small
depressions with stone tools and preforms, and empty ones were probably used for
food storage. Novopetrovka sites (small villages) were sedentary or semisedentary
settlements of hunters and fishers.
The Novopetrovka lithic industry is of special interest for technological analysis.
It is absolutely different from the industry known for Gromatukha culture in terms
of percussion but reflects similar type of activity (combination of hunting and
fishing). People of Novopetrovka culture were making their tools (arrow and dart
points, knives, drills and burins) on long prismatic blades (5–15 cm). The industry
was based on the exploitation of big prismatic cores (up to 20 cm) by a pressure-
flaking method. High quality raw material (chert, jasper, and other siliceous rocks)
and special devices to fix cores in place were widely used by local craftsmen.
Broken and unbroken blades with retouch or burination number are several
thousand. Retouch covers margins of blades both from ventral and dorsal sides but
bifacial tools are exceptionally rare. There are almost no real bifaces and no bifacal
preforms or tools. The historical roots of Novopetrovka culture (prismatic cores
and blades) may be preliminary traced to a series of sites with eroded cultural levels
(so-called Anansi Group) in the southern regions (China).
Few fragments of pottery with the presence of shell temper were found on the
Novopetrovka sites. The relationship with Gromatukha pottery is unclear but it
appears technologically different.
Osipovka (Osipovskaya) culture – (13,000–9,500 RCYBP) illustrates the Final
Paleolithic – Early Neolithic of the Lower Amur Region (Derevianko and Medvedev
2006). Today about 20 Osipovka sites are known in the vicinity of Khabarovsk and
Komsomolsk cities in the valleys of Amur and Ussuri rivers. They are spread out in
a southwest to northeast direction for more than 450 km. Some of the sites were
investigated within multiyear projects, while others were just tested with small-
scale trenches and units between the 1960s and 1990s. In many cases, the Osipovka
Final Paleolithic-Early Neolithic component is just one of several cultural levels
represented at the sites demonstrating the importance of their location over time.
Osipovka stone tools and pottery are of very distinctive types and may be
recognized even in surface surveys. The stone toolkit is represented by bifacial
points (leaf-shaped, rhomboid, lance-shaped, almond-shaped and other configura-
tions), wood-working instruments (adzes, chisels), end scrapers, knives on blade-like
blanks and on bifaces, hammers, anvils, net weights etc. These tools reflect a
complex hunting-fishing-gathering economy where intensive seasonal salmon-
fishing played the central role (Popov and Tabarev 2008).
Ustinovka (Ustinovskaya) culture – (16,000–9,000 RCYBP) is known by the big
series of sites with various lithic implements in the inland and coastal parts of the
Maritime Region (Derevianko and Tabarev 2006; Gillam and Tabarev 2003, 2006;
Tabarev 2001). The most informative is the set of seasonal sites and workshops in
the Zerkal’naya River valley. According to the position of the sites all of them were
located close to the river and tributary mouths in the middle-reach which are tradi-
tionally (even today) the best places for seasonal salmon-fishing.
The Ustinovka stone toolkit includes large quantity of wood-working imple-
ments – axes, adzes, chisels, drills, scrapers etc (Figs. 4.2–4.3). All of them may be
successfully used in trap and weir construction along with the building of light
dwellings (shelters) for fishers. The presence of small quantities of obsidian tools
and debitage in the Zerkal’naya river basin confirm the flow (trade, exchange) of
exotic materials between the interior and coast. The obsidian from Peaktusan vol-
cano was transported from the modern Chinese-Korean frontier which is about
300 km away from the Zerkal’naya river basin (Gillam and Tabarev 2004).
Ogon’ki culture (19,000–13,000 RCYBP) model (tradition) was proposed on the
base of excavations of Ogon’ki-5 Site on Sakhalin Island (Vasilevski 2003). This
small camp with remains of dwellings was tightly connected with the local ecologi-
cal context – coastal and riverine resources along with the wide options for hunting
in the inland part of the island. The Ogon’ki toolkit includes implements on blades,
bifaces, microblade, and blade cores. Obsidian from the Japanese islands of
Hokkaido (Shirataki locality) was used for most of the tools and was regularly
transported by land or by sea during several periods of habitation on the site.
110 A.V. Tabarev
Fig. 4.2 Fishing knives of final Paleolithic cultures. 1–6, 9 – Ustinovka culture, Maritime region;
7–8 – Sokol Site, Sakhalin Island
Because of high soil acidity, about 99% of all the archaeological artifacts from the
Final Paleolithic – Early Neolithic sites in the Russian Far East are stone and clay.
Of course, great number of tools and examples of artwork were certainly produced from
organic materials (wood, bone, antler, shells, fiber etc.). Only a handful of organic items
are known and they likely represent a small portion of the original total.
Several examples of artifacts prepared with the use of marginal or facial retouch
indicate the special importance of fish. Found all over the Far Eastern region
4 Blessing the Salmon: Archaeological Evidences of the Transition to Intensive Fishing
Fig. 4.3 Wood-working tools Ustinovka culture, Maritime region. 1 – Drills and gravers; 2 – axes and adzes
111
112 A.V. Tabarev
Fig. 4.4 Stone images of red fish. 1–3 – Ustinovka culture, Maritime region; 4 – Osipovka
culture, Lower Amur region; 5 – Ogon’ki culture, Sakhalin Island
(Osipovka culture, Ustinovka culture, Ogon’ki culture), they represent the images
of fish with typical traits of salmon (configuration, humps, color of raw material)
(Fig. 4.4). Their sizes (not more than 5–7 cm long) point to the possible use as
personal or family amulets, toys or details of clothes ornamentation (Tabarev 2006).
Later, during the Neolithic period, fish elements occur as pottery decoration found
on several sites with specific context (ritual centers-?) over the Lower Amur region.
This type of pottery with extremely rich ornamentation could be for ritual use dur-
ing seasonal ceremonies. Some suggest that the eyes of the faces painted on the
vessels may represent salmon (Medvedev 2005) (Fig. 4.5 – 3–4).
Discussion and Current Conclusions
During postglacial period many river mouths of rivers and small tributaries over
the Northern Pacific were opening their territories for various species of fish, and
among them salmon (five species) are of special interest and significance (Augerot
Fig. 4.5 Pottery from the Russian Far East. 1–2 – Earliest pottery, Gromatukha culture, Middle
Amur region; 3–4 – Neolithic pottery with symbolical design, Lower Amur region
and Foley 2005). The change in Final Pleistocene environment after the LGM
provided people in the Far Eastern region (Amur River valley, coastal zone of
Maritime Region, and Sakhalin Island) with new sources of food including such
outstanding option as annual salmon runs (Augerot and Foley 2005; Fobres et al.
1994). This type of seasonal activity had exceptional implications for human
mobility, technological developments, and art/ritual reflections. “People of
Salmon” may be archaeologically traced to the Final Paleolithic – Neolithic cul-
tures (16,000–4,000 RCYBP) of this region and compare with similar cultures
over the North Pacific Rim (Japan, Alaska, Northwest Coast, Northern California,
etc.). Unfortunately, direct evidence for intensive salmon-fishing at the Pleistocene-
Holocene boundary is absent due to the acidity of Far Eastern soils. Indirect evi-
dence for the early development of salmon-fishing in the Russian Far East includes
114 A.V. Tabarev
three components: (1) typical location of all the sites and its seasonal character, (2)
specific tool-kit, and (3) evidence of ritual activities connected with the “red fish.”
In spite of the technological differences in lithic industries which are known to
archaeologists over the Far Eastern region for Final Paleolithic – Neolithic times its
evolution may be well-correlated with the development of salmon-fishing activities.
The Final Paleolithic is dominated by the use of wedge-shaped microcores, trans-
versal burins, and bifaces and it may reflect the basic hunting–gathering orientation
of the economy in combination with seasonal salmon-fishing.
During the Final Paleolithic – Early Neolithic Transition wedge-shaped micro-
cores and burins disappeared almost everywhere in the region but the bifacial tech-
nique continued its evolution (bifacial cutting tools are the most important instrument
in salmon-fishing gear). Novopertovskaya culture demonstrates an alternative tech-
nological decision – prismatic blade cores exploitation. This also allowed a maxi-
mum number of blanks and tools with long cutting edges.
Additional important tool types include wood-working tools which were found
everywhere in the Middle and Lower Amur Regions, Maritime Region, and
Sakhalin Island at the sites dated to 11,000–9,000 RCYBP. They may be connected
with wide range of activities within the seasonal salmon-fishing (construction of
light shelters for fishers, construction and repair of dams, traps and weirs along
with the making of shelters for fish butchering and smoking). This shift in the took-
kit is visible in the sites located along the rivers and other ideal places for fishing.
The early invention of pottery in the Far Eastern region (Middle Amur, Lower
Amur, Japanese Islands) as early as 14,000–13,000 RCYBP also correlates with the
salmon-fishing. First of all, it may be logically connected with preparation of food
on the fire. Multiple by-products (oil, caviar, bone flour etc.) also required containers
for storage, measuring, and transportation. According to the recent data the initial
hearth of pottery-making independently appeared in the Middle Amur Region
(Gromatukhinskaya culture) and spread its technological innovation first to the
Lower Amur Region (about 13,000–12,000 RCYBP) (Fig. 4.5 – 1–2) and later to the
Maritime Region (11,000–10,000 RCYBP) (Zhuschikhovskaya 1997).
Another explanation of early pottery use is found in the need for bowls and cups
used during ceremonies and rituals. In periods of salmon-fishing activity feasts may
be connected with the beginning (“First Salmon Ceremony”) and the end
(“Thanksgiving Ceremony”) of the annual salmon run, and require the consumption
of special types of food and drink. Such ceremonies are described for North
American Indians of the Northwest Coast and California, for aboriginals of Lower
Amur Region, Sakhalin, and for the Ainu people in Northern Japan (Dietler and
Hayden 2001; Gunther 1926, 1928; Medvedev 2005; Fobres et al. 1994).
Small amounts of salmon bones are known on Kamchatka Peninsula (Extreme
Northeast of Asia) at the Ushki Lake Site. The lake itself is the place for salmon
spawning and ideal position for salmon-fishing. Earliest cultural component of this
site is dated by radiocarbon by 11,000–11,500 RCYBP and is represented by a
series of subterranean dwellings. Small fragments of burned salmon bones (fish
heads) were found in the ancient fire-places (Dikov 1993). This corresponds with
the tradition recorded on Kamchatka by travelers and ethnographers in eighteenth
and nineteenth centuries. Local aboriginals used to have two fireplaces in their
dwellings – one for cooking and another one for ritual purposes including the “fire
feeding ceremony.” They would throw pieces of food (meat, fish, berries, nuts etc.)
to the fire as a symbolical gratitude to the ghosts and ancestors.
According to archaeological and ethnographic records salmon-fishing special-
ization led to the creation of a social structure which can be described as “transe-
galitarian.” This social phenomenon develops in highly productive territories with
the possibility to accumulate resources and food in long-term storage and to redis-
tribute it among members of the society in case of need (Dietler and Hayden 2001;
Owens and Hayden 1997).
The image of salmon in the decorative arts and crafts traced over aboriginal
cultures of Far Eastern and North American people was met in Final Paleolithic
materials in the Far East (Amur Region, Maritime Region, and Sakhalin Island).
This may be interpreted as the earliest evidence of special shamanistic practice
connected with the attraction and blessing of Salmon.
We believe that archaeological materials (both – direct and indirect traces) in the
Russian Far East and on the Japanese Islands support the idea of the initial origin
of salmon-fishing in this part of the Pacific and its spread to the northern latitudes,
including the North American coast from this center right after the LGM. This type
of resource (easy to collect, rich, renewable, predictable, etc.) may play very impor-
tant role in the intensity of migrations in Northern Pacific including the initial
peopling of the New World from Asia.
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Chapter 5
Early Technological Organization Along
the Eastern Pacific Rim of the New World:
A Co-Continental View
Samuel C. Willis and Matthew R. Des Lauriers
Introduction
In this chapter, we address the current understanding of Late Pleistocene subsistence

technology along the New World Pacific Coast. Artifact assemblages from these early
coastal sites are here viewed as remnant components of more complete living tech-
nological systems. Many scholars investigating the Peopling of the New World have
understandably focused their attentions on faunal remains, radiocarbon dates, and
paleoenvironmental reconstructions. While clearly necessary, interpretation of early
coastal human behavior, which limits itself to the study of these elements alone, leads
to an ipso facto deterministic set of models to explain the initial peopling of New
World Pacific coast. This determinism springs from the fact that a narrow examina-
tion of ecofactual data and the subsequent application of ecological explanatory
models can potentially lead to circular reasoning, despite the demonstrated effective-
ness of these models in many situations. A more explicit focus on those categories of
data formed intentionally through (as opposed to being incidental byproducts of)
human action will provide a perspective on the earliest archaeological record of the
Americas that could be integrated with a range of different theoretical approaches.
Recently, many scholars (Roosevelt et al. 2002; Des Lauriers 2006; Erlandson
et al. 2008) have begun to question not only the chronology but also the entire tra-
jectory of early colonization of the New World landscape. Earlier views have seen
the initial occupation of the Pacific coastlines of the New World as secondary to
demographic expansion of populations already resident in interior terrestrial envi-
ronments lying east of the cordilleras that rise like battlements along the Pacific
Coast. For reasons linked to the history of research, the cultural focus of Americanist
archaeologists, and possibly even politics, it has been posited that the earliest
hunter-gatherers eschewed the lands bathed by the Pacific waters for millennia, and
at some point during the late Pleistocene-early Holocene (LP-EH) transition, small
S.C. Willis ()
Department of Anthropology, Oregon State University, Corvallis, OR, USA
118 S.C. Willis and M.R. Des Lauriers
bands of inlanders slowly headed west and began adapting to littoral settings.
Numerous scholars have summarized the faulty rationale underlying these assump-
tions and have provided mounting evidence for an early Pacific coast occupation
and maritime exploitation, including the likelihood of an early coastal pathway into
the Americas (Fladmark 1978, 1979; Gruhn 1994; Dixon 2001; Erlandson 2001,
2002; Mandryk et al. 2001).
Here, we attempt to assess whether an early technological pattern can be identi-
fied in the archaeological record of New World Pacific sites. Multiple levels of
investigation are incorporated into this assessment including typological studies,
raw material studies, and relative diversity or homogeneity of the assemblages.
These indicators are evaluated for LP assemblages along the New World Pacific
coastline investigated to date. While we acknowledge the broad scope of these
investigative levels, a more detailed synthesis of New World Pacific coast artifact
assemblages involving more robust statistical testing of metric attributes and mor-
phological patterns is in progress.
Our review of early Pacific coast assemblages is principally focused on those
assemblages reliably dated to at least ca. 10,000 RCYBP, or ca. 11,500 cal BP.
Those data presented in the literature as calendar years BP are transformed to radio-
carbon years BP via CALIB software (Stuiver and Reimer 1993). The current popu-
lation (N = 12) of LP-aged Pacific coastal and pericoastal sites includes a mean
occupation at ca. 10,513 RCYBP (12,450 cal BP) with a range spanning ca.
10,907–10,119 RCYBP. The chronometrically supported population is suggested to
represent consistent and habitual occupation of the coastline by widely distributed
populations at ca. 12,000 years ago (Fig. 5.1). Note that the Los Vilos locality is not
quantified due to questionable chronometric results.
The image that emerges from this examination indicates a diverse array of tool
forms and manufacturing technologies used at the individual site level. This pattern
is likely due to small groups sequentially adjusting their toolkits to numerous and
varying environments along an expansive coastline. Yet, when viewed on a broad,
co-continental scale, a synchronic consistency is apparent in the majority of the
assemblages. We argue that a generalized pattern of technological organization was
present along long stretches of the Pacific coastline during the initial colonization
phase of the Americas. The composition of the assemblages and their proximity to
the Pacific Coast suggest that the earliest peoples to settle the New World Pacific
Coast were likely generalized coastal foragers implementing interchangeable, flex-
ible technological patterns constrained by local environmental conditions.
Remnant Assemblages in Marine–Terrestrial Interface
What adaptive characteristics are reflected in early technological systems along the
New World Pacific coast? According to Bamforth (1991) and Collins (1997), inter-
pretations of subsistence that are based on a single assemblage cannot completely
5 Early Technological Organization Along the Eastern Pacific Rim of the New World 119
Fig. 5.1 The overlay plot (a) and range chart (b) display the chronometric record for select
LP-aged sites from the New World Pacific coast
substantiate large-scale adaptive patterns because the site’s assemblage is simply a

reflection of the technological organization used by a group reacting to local condi-
tions at the site level (e.g., specific season, available raw material). To provide an
accurate understanding of basic adaptive patterns reflected in a technological
system(s), multiple site assemblages should be compared diachronically and syn-
chronically (Bamforth 1991; Collins 1997).
This concept is essential for any attempt to understand large-scale human
events such as the initial entry into and colonization of a region as vast as the New
World Pacific coast. Without proclaiming a complete adherence to an exclusively
maritime colonization process, we point out that investigations of the early

prehistory of the Pacific coast region have long suffered from theoretically land-
locked biases (Carlson 1998). At the heart of the matter is the implication of many
early views that initial colonizing peoples were not adapted to or regularly exploit-
ing coastal environments. Carlson (1998) expertly traces out this process of
thought from its beginnings in Old World European archaeology to its establish-
ment in New World Pacific coast prehistory via Kroeber, and the currently domi-
nant neo-Kroeberian configuration (Matson and Coupland 1999). Recent research
along the Pacific Coast has not only challenged but also essentially demolished
this paradigm.
Current evidence exists for littoral and neretic fishing and shellfish gathering at
many LP-aged coastal sites. Given that the LP paleoenvironmental conditions along
some sections of the coast were conducive to human habitation (Mandryk et al.
2001; Heaton et al. 1996), it is unlikely that groups moving down any coastal
corridor – whether fully dedicated to marine resource harvesting or not – would
have ignored the perennial resources of the ocean. We suggest that most of the earli-
est populations responsible for creating the coastal archaeological deposits cur-
rently under investigation were transhumant coastal foragers using a generalized
and adaptable system capable of incorporating coastal, lacustrine, and terrestrial
resource bases (Lynch 1971; Sandweiss et al. 1998; Fedje et al. 2004a, b; Davis
2007; Davis and Willis 2011). In some geographic contexts, such as the narrow and
arid Baja California Peninsula, this pattern may have become more constrained,
resulting in the development of more derived settlement and subsistence patterns at
a relatively early date. Elsewhere, the persistence of settlement mobility would
have militated against the development of resource-specialized toolkits or the
establishment of highly localized social and human ecological patterns.
Possible Technological Systems
How can early artifact assemblages reveal whether the archaeological sites exam-
ined here were home to seasoned fishermen accustomed to the vastness of the
Pacific vista, or big game hunters seeing only the edge of their world? What would
the functional demands and limiting constraints be for a technological system oper-
ating within a LP period coastal environment? Bamforth (1991) and Tartaglia
(1976) point out that one very obvious conditioner of technological systems will be
the local environment.
An a priori assumption of early coastal subsistence technology studies in the
Americas (especially North America) is that refined lithic toolkits, notably bifaces
(see Cassidy et al. 2004), indicate a terrestrial orientation (Carlson 1998),
whereas early coastal traditions would have required only simple, unsophisticated
tools (Rick et al. 2001). Carlson (1998) opposes this view suggesting that lithic
tools (e.g., pebble tools, bifaces) could easily be integrated into a maritime
technology. Other researchers studying hunter-gatherers in coastal and pericoastal
environmental contexts have acknowledged this fact as well (Bennyhoff 1950;

Lyman et al. 1988; Kuang-Ti 2002; Des Lauriers 2006; Davis and Willis 2011). An
additional consideration is that the majority of site assemblages in our sample dis-
play multifunctional qualities characteristic of a generalized (but not unrefined)
toolkit and technological organization (Nelson 1991).
The majority of LP sites on the New World Pacific coast exhibit a relatively low
diversity in terms of lithic artifact types or forms, whereas the bulk of the remnant
assemblages are represented by the products of lithic reduction and the attendant
debitage (Table 5.1). This situation is evident along the North American Pacific
coast in particular, where lithic artifact diversity is seemingly low at the individual
site level, especially if the lithic subassemblage is uncritically examined without
follow-up research to determine empirically the function and use-life history of the
basic element of the technological system. The seemingly low diversity of tool types
at the majority of these early sites may allude to a rapid diffusion of a set of subsis-
tence ideals, or be the result of population movement along the coast. Des Lauriers
(2006) offers the latter as a possible reason for the similarities of early coastal and
inland lithic toolkits in the Alta California–Baja California border region. But there
may be different avenues by which to focus our views of assemblage sameness
or assemblage distinctiveness. For instance, if we regard these early coastal remnant
assemblages as components of larger technological systems, we may argue that
assemblage diversity was in place along the LP period Pacific Coast, manifest in
distinct technologies designed for specific subsistence functions. Bifacial, unifacial,
and groundstone lithic technologies, as well as organic technologies consisting of
bone and antler implements and fibrous cordage and netting gear, were employed by
early Pacific Coast populations within a variety of microenvironmental contexts,
which is suggested here to require the development of broad based organizational
strategies (e.g., technological) to help insure human success within a landscape.
LP Period Sites: The Evidence So Far
On Your Knees Cave/Alaska/10,300–8,500 RCYBP
On Your Knees Cave (49-PET-408) is located on the Prince of Wales Island along
the southeastern coast of Alaska. Well known for its late Quaternary faunal record
(Heaton et al. 1996), the cave also includes a substantial prehistoric cultural deposit
with EH and LP components (Dixon et al. 1997; Dixon 2001). Associated with the
EH component are a single human burial, microcores and microblades, bifaces,
macroflake cores, and additional lithic tools and debitage. Imported obsidian is
present in the lithic assemblage and originates ca. 80 km northeast from 49-PET-
408. Underlying the EH component is an ephemeral LP occupation that includes a
small sample of lithic debitage and a single bone “awl or punch” dated to ca. 10,300
RCYBP (Table 5.1) (Dixon 2001:287).
Table 5.1 List of absence/presence of artifact types for select LP and EH assemblages along, and in proximity to, the New World Pacific coast
Las Los Cueva
49-PET- K-1 Indian Daisy PAIC - Vegas Quebrada Quebrada Ring Paiján Amotape Vilos Lago Cueva Monte
409 cave Sands I cave 44–49 complex Tacahuay Jaguay site complex tradition locality Sofia I del Medio Verde II
Lithic
Leaf-shaped X X X
Stemmed biface X X
Fluted biface Xa
Other biface Xb
Early biface/preform X X X X
Formal uniface X X Xc Xc X X X X
Nonformal modified X X X X X X X X X X X X X
flake
Debitage X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
Cobble tool X X Xd X X
Prepared macrocore Xe Xf Xg Xg
Amorphous core Xh X X X Xi X X
Bola stone X
Groundstone X X X
Osseous – shell
Unipoint X
Bipoint
Harpoon (toggle, etc.) Xj
Fish hook X X
Scraper X X
Other Xk Xk
Other organic (wood, plant, etc.)
Fiber cordage X
Container X
Watercraft Xl Xl
Ochre/pigment X X
Other Xm
Cultural features
Hearth Xn X X X X X X X X
Posthole X Xo X
Structure X X
a
South American fishtail variety (Borrero 1999)
b
Bi-pointed El Jobo-like lanceolate biface (Collins 1997, Dillehay 1999, 2000)
c
Bimarginally retouched modified flake (Keefer et al. 1998; Sandweiss et al. 1998, De France et al. 2001)
d
Unmodified manuport cobbles (Jackson 2003)
e
Discoidal and single platform core varieties (Ossa and Moseley 1972; Chauchat and Pelegrin 2004)
f
Single platform, cylindrical (Richardson 1978)
g
Core/scraper plane. These are typically cylindrical single platform forms (Jackson 2003; Jackson and Prieto 2005)
h
Core-on-flake or flake core (Willis 2005; Davis and Willis 2011)
i
Multidirectional horse-hoof form (Richardson 1978)
j
Bone harpoon fragments recovered in component dating between 10,575 and 8,755 RCYBP. It is likely that the specimens are associated with late Pleistocene
occupation (Sandweiss et al. 1989)
k
Antler tine or flaker (Dixon et al. 1997; Chauchat and Pelegrin 2004)
l
Location on an island setting reveals use of watercraft (Erlandson et al. 1996; Dixon et al. 1997; Rick et al. 2001)
m
Various wooden artifacts including a digging stick, stakes or wedges, and foreshaft fragments (Dillehay 1997, 1999, 2000)
n
Fire-cracked rock possibly associated with a hearth
o
Postholes are contained between strata dating between 10,800 and 10,500 RCYBP (Sandweiss et al. 1998:1832)
K-1 Cave/British Columbia/10,960–10,510 RCYBP
K-1 Cave (Fedje et al., Chapter 3) is located on Haida Gwaii, British Columbia.
Two fragmentary stemmed bifaces were recovered stratigraphically situated within
the skeletal remains of a single Black bear and were likely brought into the cave by
the mortally wounded animal. Radiocarbon dates bracketing the stemmed biface
fragments are between 10,525 and 10,660 RCYBP and between 10,510 and 10,960
RCYBP (Fedje et al. 2004a, b, Fedje et al., Chapter 3). K-1 Cave offers direct evi-
dence that humans equipped with a stemmed biface technology hunted large mam-
mals in a coastal setting at 10,500 RCYBP. While stemmed biface technology is
documented for EH and LP sites in the interior PNW, this is the first example of its
use on the coast (see Table 5.1).
Indian Sands/Oregon/10,430 ± 150 RCYBP
The Indian Sands (35CU67C) site is located on an uplifted marine terrace along the
southern Oregon coast. A portion of the site includes a stratified record of LP and
EH occupations, and a surficial lag of likely middle to late Holocene-aged artifacts
(Davis et al. 2004; Willis 2005; Davis 2006; Davis and Willis 2011). The LP com-
ponent (Component I) is associated with a single radiocarbon date of 10,430 ± 150
RCYBP on charcoal. An upper limiting bracket of stratigraphically ordered EH and
middle Holocene TL assays ranges from 9,030 ± 900 to 6,440 ± 670 RCYBP (Davis
2006; Davis and Willis 2011).
Component I cultural material includes leaf-shaped bifaces, early-stage bifaces
or preforms, a uniface, nonformal modified flakes, and flake cores or cores-on-
flakes (c.f. Hovers 2007) (Willis 2005; Davis and Willis 2011). Lithic analysis
reveals the use of multidirectional core-and-flake technology for the production of
leaf-shaped bifaces, unifaces, and nonformal modified flakes (see Table 5.1). The
majority of the lithic assemblage is manufactured from chert, whereas small chert
nodules are available from exposed breccias on the site. Large macroflakes reduced
from larger chert nodules (of unknown form) were subsequently used as single,
broad-faced cores for the production of useable flakes. Additionally, use of
imported obsidian from ca. 270 km inland is a direct evidence for early knowledge
of toolstone sources and/or extragroup interaction. The Component I assemblage
represents a generalized technological organization in an upland environment over-
looking what was an extensive coastal plain at ca. 10,430 RCYBP (Davis et al.
2004; Willis 2004, 2005).
Daisy Cave/California/10,100 RCYBP
Daisy Cave (CA-SMI-261) is located on San Miguel Island, one of the Channel
Islands of southern California. The site is a multicomponent shell midden with
a basal date of 10,100 RCYBP (Erlandson 1994; Erlandson et al. 1996). The LP
occupation is limited to a small sample of modified flakes and lithic debitage
including abalone and mussel species (see Table 5.1). The upper EH-aged cultural
component reveals a robust assemblage of bone bi-points, sea grass cordage, and
lithic artifacts including bone bipoints. Abundant shell and fish remains were
recovered in the EH component suggesting possible gorge, or hook-and-line fishing
and fish net use (Rick et al. 2001).
Cerro Pedregoso and Richard’s Ridge/Isla Cedros, Baja

California, Mexico/10,745–8,775 RCYBP
These two sites have produced one of the most extensive samples of lithic
technologyfrom a terminal Pleistocene-early Holocene-aged coastal context in the
Americas. A variety of biface forms were produced and used at these early sites,
both for use as hafted knives and as projectile points. Hundreds of bifaces and
biface fragments were found on the surface and excavated deposit of Cerro
Pedrogroso, representing all stages of reduction, from initial bifacing of blocks, to
“roughed-out” blanks, to bifacial preforms, to finished and broken points and
knives. The diversity in the size of performs and finished bifaces is interesting,
given the recovery of small, well-thinned bifaces in association with larger format,
leaf-shaped and stemmed examples. The faunal data (which include 18 taxa of fish,
several varieties of seabirds, sea mammals, sea turtles, and a few rabbit bones)
suggest the largest of these fauna were hunted with stone-tipped weapons. There is
a near absence of large terrestrial fauna in the archaeological assemblage (see
Des Lauriers 2011) despite the presence of native Cedros Island Mule Deer
(Odocoileus hemionus cerrosensis). Given the abundant evidence for the exploita
tionof marine fauna, the dearth of large terrestrial fauna is noteworthy.
The raw material selection inferred from an examination of the lithic artifacts
from both Cerro Pedregoso (PAIC-44) and Richard’s Ridge (PAIC-49) merits some
discussion. The Cerro Pedregoso conglomerate deposit and the Punta Prieta quartz
veins are the source for 90% of the tool stone recovered from PAIC-44. There is a
complete absence of obsidian, which is not surprising, since it is unlikely that the
long-distance trade networks that operated late in prehistory would have been
established during the earliest phases of colonization. However, the absence of
exotic toolstone suggests more limited regional mobility for the earliest Isla Cedros
populations than that inferred for the people occupying Indian Sands, Oregon, for
example. More surprising is the dearth of local island microcrystalline stone, so
common in later deposits. Only eight lithic items (five flakes, one flake tool, and
two hafted knives) – from a sample of over 3,000 – are from material that is clearly
nonlocal in an immediate sense.
Centripetal cobble core technology is present in archaeological components that
date at least as early as 10,100 RCYBP. In addition, the production of a large quantity
of unifacial tools, largely in a format consistent with use as side and end scrapers,
also is apparent from both surface and excavated contexts. Unifacially flaked tools
made of clamshell were found in surprising numbers1 at both PAIC-44 and PAIC-49
in surface and excavated contexts. These clamshell tools are a significant percent-
age of the formed artifacts from PAIC-44 (18% from unit 2, all levels), but have not
been recovered or observed from sites dating later than 8,300 RCYBP. The abun-
dance of so many inferred “scraping” tools provides an indication that the site was
a base camp where both manufacturing and processing activities occurred, rather
than a short-term camp occupied for a limited range of activities. A great deal of
tool production occurred at PAIC-44, and many resources brought from at least
2 km away were being processed there. The residents ranged far afield from this
location to a variety of distinct harvesting zones and returned to process the
resources at the camp.
Quebrada Tacahuay/Peru/10,770–10,290 RCYBP
Quebrada Tacahuay is a LP shell midden exposed in the wall of an arroyo on the

south coast of Peru. Dates for the early occupation range from 10,770 to 10,290
RCYBP on charcoal (De France et al. 2001). Faunal remains are rich in adult sea-
birds followed by marine fish, namely anchovy and herring, and shellfish (Keefer
et al. 1998; De France et al. 2001). The presence of small schooling fish species is
suggested as an indirect evidence of a sophisticated littoral or neretic netting tech-
nology. Terrestrial gastropod and mollusk remains were recovered in hearth feature
fill. The lithic assemblage is comprised of one formal modified flake (bimarginally
retouched), nine modified flakes (unimarginally retouched), and debitage (N = 12).
The assemblage is similar in composition and material as the Ring Site, located
approximately 20 km to the north (Keefer et al. 1998; see below). Additionally, a
single polished marine mammal bone tool was recovered (see Table 5.1). Quebrada
Tacahuay is suggested to represent a specialized marine extraction and processing
camp focused on seabirds and, to a lesser extent, small schooling finfish, shellfish,
and marine mammals (De France et al. 2001).
Quebrada Jaguay (QJ-280)/Peru/11,105–9,850 RCYBP
Quebrada Jaguay is a LP-EH site situated on an alluvial terrace of the Quebrada

Jaguay two kilometers from the modern Pacific Ocean coastline and was located
approximately seven to eight kilometers from the coast during the time of the initial
occupation (Sandweiss et al. 1998). Investigations at QJ-280 recovered a high
1
For example, 12 complete or fragmentary clamshell tools were found in layer D of unit 2 at
PAIC-44, along with 17 identifiable pieces of clamshell debitage.
f requency of drum fish and marine mollusks. A small sample of rodent remains
were recovered but are suggested as being noncultural in origin. The EH compo-
nent includes cordage and , is considered to be a direct evidence for net fishing
technology when coupled with the recovery of abundant drum fish remains. The LP
component comprises lithic debitage and few tools – mainly modified flakes with
bifacial retouch (see Table 5.1). This assemblage shares technological similarities
with Quebrada Tacahuay. No evidence for bifaces was recovered. Lithic raw mate-
rial includes extralocal petrified wood and obsidian. Trace analysis on the obsidian
reveals Alca in the central Andes as the source, which is located ca. 130 km from
the site (Sandweiss et al. 1998).
Site QJ-280 includes EH-aged posthole features associated with a structure floor
and hearth. The structure is approximately five meters in width, circular, and
semisubterranean, suggesting early pithouse construction. An additional series of
circular postholes capped by LP-aged sediment dating between 10,800 and 10,500
cal BP (9,500–9,350 RCYBP) indicate a possible LP-aged structure. Other sites
including EH-dated postholes in the region have been observed by Sandweiss et al.
(1998). Although no additional LP-aged sites with these characteristics have been
observed in the region, it is possible, given the likely LP-aged postholes at QJ-280,
that this same EH semipermanent residential pattern may have its roots in the
terminal Pleistocene. Quebrada Jaguay is suggested by Sandweiss et al. (1998) to
reflect an EH and LP-aged transhumance pattern, similar to that as described for
northern Chile by Lynch (1971).
Ring Site/Peru/10,575 RCYBP
The Ring Site is a deeply stratified shell midden located on an uplifted marine
terrace less than one kilometer from the modern coastline of Peru. Occupation of
the Ring Site ranges from 10,575 to 5,060 RCYBP (Sandweiss et al. 1989). The
earliest component includes an ephemeral occupation with a small sample of lithic
debitage, with no evidence of bifacial technology. Instead, bone tools including
composite fish hooks and harpoon fragments are consistently present throughout
the midden, suggesting that organic technology was important (see Table 5.1).
A single bone harpoon head is bracketed by sediment with dates ranging from ca.
10,575 and 8,755 RCYBP. It is likely that the nonformal modified flakes and deb-
itage were used to manufacture a more specialized, organic toolkit; an important
South American trait has been suggested by some (Bryan 1973; Stothert 1985).
The presence of composite fish hooks suggests that hook-and-line fishing was
practiced by the occupants throughout the site’s duration (Sandweiss et al. 1989).
Subsistence appears to be based mainly on marine resources, and is similar to
nearby sites Quebrada Tacahuay and Quebrada Jaguay. There is little evidence to
support the harvesting of small schooling species. Terrestrial faunal remains
recovered at the site are suggested to have originated from a postdepositional and
noncultural context.
Los Vilos Locality: Quebrada de Quereo and El

Membrillo-Quereo/Chile/13,500–11,000 RCYBP
Sites Quebrada de Quereo and Quebrada El Membrillo are located in arroyos

cutting into marine terraces within the Los Vilos region of coastal Chile. Each
site includes extinct megafauna purported to be associated with lithic tools; it
has not been proven whether there is a direct association. At Quebrada El
Membrillo Jackson (2003) reports Mylodon sp. dated to 13,500 ± 65 RCYBP;
and paleolama remains are likely associated with unmodified manuport cobbles,
cores, modified flakes, planes (likely core-tools), and over seventy pieces of
lithic debitage (see Table 5.1) (Jackson 2003). Similarly, excavations by Nunez
et al. (1994) at Quebrada de Quereo suggest lithic debitage is associated with
paleolama and Equus sp., ranging in age from ca. 11,400 to 9,370 RCYBP. While
association of artifacts and extinct megafauna is questionable for both sites,
these results may represent the hunting of paleofauna in a coastal setting, if the
interpretation is correct.
Monte Verde II/Chile/12,780 ± 240 and 11,790 ± 200 RCYBP
Monte Verde II (MV II) deserves recognition in this chapter, as it does in any
discussion concerning early New World occupation, based on the fact that (1) it
is a pericoastal site, (2) a portion of the lithic raw material assemblage recovered
at the site, in the form of water-rounded cobbles, was transported to the site from
the Pacific coast, and (3) multiple species of flora were found, including four
types of seaweed imported from the Pacific coast, and 45 other plant species
from inland forests and wetlands (Dillehay et al. 2008:785). MV II places
humans along the Pacific coast, as far as 41° south latitude, between 12,780 ± 240
and 11,990 ± 200 RCYBP (Dillehay and Pino 1997; Dillehay 1997, 1999),
and reveals an extremely well-preserved technological system that was imple-
mented in coastal and interior forested environments during the LP. Excellent
organic preservation at MV II lends support to ideas proposed by Bryan (1973)
and Richardson (1978) regarding an early emphasis on organic technologies, as
the robust organic bone and wood tool assemblage at MV II is a testament to the
limited role that the lithic assemblage played in the site occupants’ technological
system. Aside from a few projectile points and an early stage biface, the lithic
industry consists mainly of modified flakes, cobble tools, groundstone, bola
stones, and debitage (Collins 1997; Dillehay 1997, 1999). Organic implements
including wooden stakes, hewn timber, fiber cordage, wooden shafts, a wooden
digging stick, and other items reveal an extreme diversity in technology (see
Table 5.1). Also present at MV II are the rarely preserved residential and special-
ized structures revealing the likelihood of semipermanent to permanent occupa-
tion of the site.
Other Notable Sites
Ultima Esperanza Sound/Magallanes, Chile/≥ 12,390 ± 180–9,500

RCYBP
Brief mention should be made of two cave and rockshelter sites located in the
Ultima Esperanza Sound region of southern Patagonia; Cueva Lago Sofia 1 and
Cueva del Medio respectively (Borrero 1999).
Cueva Lago Sofia 1, which includes the remains of ground sloth, horse, and
guanaco in association with hearths and lithic material, was arguably dated to ca.
11,570 ± 60 RCYBP (Borrero 1999). The lithic assemblage includes formal unifaces,
nonformal modified flakes, and a discoidal-like core (see Table 5.1). No bifaces
have been recovered at the site. Subsequent redating from multiple samples of the
Period I “Paleoindian” component suggests initial occupation of the cave between
10,710 ± 70 and 10,140 ± 120 RCYBP (Jackson and Prieto 2005).
Cueva del Medio (ca. 11,200 and 9,500 RCYBP) includes lithic material and
cultural features associated with LP and modern faunal species. A controversial
date of 12,390 ± 180 RCYBP was obtained from a hearth that also produced a date
of 10,500 RCYBP. Borrero (1999) describes the lithic inventory as including fluted
fishtail bifaces, sidescrapers, and other lithic specimens (see Table 5.1).
Paiján/Peru/10,800–8,500 RCYBP
The Paiján tradition is known mainly for its hallmark stemmed and needle-nosed
Paiján projectile point (Ossa and Moseley 1972; Chauchat and Pelegrin 2004;
Dillehay 1999; Dillehay et al. 2003). The tradition is associated with hundreds of
sites in a restricted area along the northern coast of Peru spreading east to the
coastal plain and reaching as far as the western Andean foothills. Chronology of the
Paiján tradition ranges in age from ca. 10,800 to 8,500 RCYBP. The earliest Paiján
period sites are typically associated with large lithic scatters and hearths, little
organic tool preservation, evidence for multiple episodes of reoccupation (i.e.,
palimpsests), and transhumant use of the coast and interior coastal plain (Chauchat
and Pelegrin 2004; Dillehay et al. 2003). The Paiján toolkit includes bifacial pre-
forms, various scrapers made on flakes, denticulates, limaces, or slugs (see
Chauchat and Pelegrin 2004:104, Fig. 56.1), occasional groundstone, cobble tools,
amorphous flake-and-core forms, and formally prepared core forms including dis-
coidal and single platform varieties (see Table 5.1) (Ossa and Moseley 1972;
Chauchat and Pelegrin 2004). The hallmark Paiján artifact includes the narrow-to-
expanding stemmed projectile point characterized by a triangular midsection
constricting to a very narrow distal point (Ossa and Moseley 1972; Chauchat and
Pelegrin 2004). Chauchat and Pelegrin (2004) suggest that the stemmed Paiján point
is designed for use in marine habitats and is derived from an earlier fishtail point
tradition farther east in the interior.
Las Vegas/Ecuador/10,800–6,600 RCYBP
While the Las Vegas culture, which is comprised of numerous sites on the Santa
Elena Peninsula, is described in detail elsewhere (see Stothert 2011) brief mention
is made because of its associated technological patterns. The recovered faunal and
plant remains suggest the reliance on local resources from ocean, riverine, terrestrial,
and mangrove swamp environments (Stothert 1985). Las Vegas technological
organization included the use of bone, shell, and lithic material. Bone tools included
three bone points that are suggested to be projectile points or fish gorges. A single
bone spatula is suggested to be possibly a net rigging or clothes-making tool
(Stothert 1985). Mollusk, univalve, and conch shells were transformed into small
containers, scoops, whistles, and beads. Lithic tools were comprised mainly of
modified flake and cobble tool forms. Chert flakes are minimally modified along
their edges, with no evidence for formal unifacial or bifacial technology. Evidence
of container technology is suggestive of an early sedentary residential system along
the Ecuadorian coast (Stothert 1985:621).
Amotape/Peru/11,200–8,125 RCYBP
The Amotape tradition is based on approximately 10 pericoastal sites associated

with tar seeps at the base of the Amotape Mountains on the Mancora Tablazo of the
northern coast of Peru (Richardson 1978; Dillehay 2000). Amotape sites range in
age from 11,200 to 8,125 RCYBP (Richardson 1978). The lithic assemblages are
composed entirely of locally derived quartzite and chalcedony, and include notched
and multi-pointed denticulates, modified flakes, and multidirectional and other
prepared core forms with no evidence of bifacial technology (see Table 5.1).
Richardson (1978) believes that the Amotape unifacial tradition is a portion of a
larger organic-based technological system, including the use of organic projectiles
that would have allowed early mobile humans to adapt more easily to multiple
environments (Bryan 1973; Richardson 1978).
Discussion
Raw Material
The majority of early coastal sites described here contain lithic assemblages that are
dominated by raw material derived from proximal source locations, often without
apparent preference for high-quality stone. The physical configuration and fracture
properties of raw material have a clear, immutable effect on the structure of a toolkit.
As a reductive process, the manufacture of lithic tools cannot violate these
preexistingconstraints, regardless of the skill of the knapper. Lesser quality toolstone
has traditionally been thought to be suited only to the replication of nonformal (i.e.,
expedient) toolkits, while high-quality material is seen as less constraining and an
integral aspect of highly formalized tool designs (Andrefsky 1994a, b). For instance,
Amotape lithic assemblages are largely comprised of nonformalized modified flakes
manufactured nearly exclusively from local quartzites (Richardson 1978). Yet
assemblages from the early Baja California Peninsular sites demonstrate that even
difficult-to-work toolstone can produce refined, formalized tools.
In contrast to this localized pattern of self-sufficiency, evidence for importation
of high-quality materials of nonlocal origin does exist at some early coastal sites. For
example, the Indian Sands site in Oregon contains imported high-quality obsidians,
and Quebrada Jaguay in Peru includes high-quality obsidian and petrified
wood obtained from great distances. While the Indian Sands obsidian is typical
of imported high-quality material (i.e., limited to the manufacture of formal tools),
imported material at Quebrada Jaguay is used in the manufacture of nonformal
modified flakes. This difference has possible implications for early technological
organization along the New World Pacific coast. That is to say, raw material selection
and toolkit composition may be attributed to a neutral theory (sensu Brantingham
2003) in which local raw material for the majority of the early coastal sites is pro-
cured on encounter-based forays, and the quantity and diversity of tool types and raw
materials are the result of the amount of raw material an individual can physically
transport. Morphological changes are suggested to occur within the toolkit as local
materials, and the resulting tools manufactured from these newly acquired materials,
are continually integrated into the existing toolkit (Brantingham 2003).
If a transhumant strategy (i.e., a mobile, likely seasonal use of diverse
microenvironments within a larger landscape) existed along the LP Pacific coast,
the archaeological record should contain evidence of residential mobility, involv-
ing movement from the coast to the interior coastal plain and uplands, and back
again. This pattern may have facilitated movement of high-quality material to
sites such as Indian Sands and Quebrada Jaguay. Not unsurprisingly, locations
where travel and transport costs would have been prohibitive, such as island set-
tings, display very little evidence of raw material importation during the initial
colonization phase.
Technological Trends
Bifacial technology appears to play an important role in the small sample of LP

technologies recovered from North American Pacific coastal sites. Indian Sands
and PAIC-44 and PAIC-49 include foliate and stemmed bifaces that were used in
conjunction with flake-core technology and the production of both formal and non-
formal flake tools. While flake-on-core (c.f. Hovers 2007) technology is present at
Indian Sands, only the Isla Cedros sites appear to contain a well-developed unifacial
and centripetal core industry (Des Lauriers 2006), which may link the early
Peninsular traditions to those farther south on the Latin American Pacific coast. The
stemmed biface fragments recovered in K-1 Cave are a direct evidence of a
LP-aged stemmed point technology associated with terrestrial mammal hunting in
a pericoastal environmental context. Daisy Cave includes evidence of a unifacial
flake and core technology that was employed in the production of nonformal modi-
fied flakes. So far, direct dating of these sites has demonstrated the simultaneous
practice of a stemmed and foliate projectile point technology and a unifacial tech-
nology along long stretches of the Pacific coast during the terminal Pleistocene.
Also noteworthy is the recovery of fluted bifaces along the Pacific coast; how-
ever, the sample is minimal and includes no stratified or chronometrically dated
sites (Moratto 1984; Erlandson 1994; Rick et al. 2005; Des Lauriers 2006).
Although there is little we can learn from the discovery of isolated fluted points
from surficial contexts, these data, at face value, suggest Paleoindians may have
had only an ephemeral occupation along the New World Pacific coastline. While
the recovery of fluted bifaces from the Oregon and California coast have in the past
demanded little consideration of a possible earlier occupation (Erlandson 1994;
Rick et al. 2005), a recent redating project of accepted Clovis occupations through-
out North America has resulted in demonstrable evidence that Clovis fluted biface
technology may not predate 11,050 RCYBP and probably continued to no later than
10,800 RCYBP (although Folsom and eastern North American fluted technologies
continue to ca. 10,200 RCYBP or later) (Waters and Stafford 2007). As we have
shown, multiple New World Pacific coast sites without fluted bifaces clearly predate,
or are contemporaneous with, the Clovis technological tradition.
Our estimates place four technological strategies along the South American
Pacific coast during the LP: organic projectile points/harpoon heads, bifacial stone
tools, unifacial stone tools (i.e., unifacially and bifacially retouched flakes), and,
fibrous netting/cordage. A reliance on unifacial lithic technologies and organic
tools is apparent on the north coast of Peru and central coast of Chile. The continu-
ing argument of a preprojectile unifacial tradition has yet to be resolved (Lanning
1970; Bryan 1973, Hurt 1977; Richardson 1978; Dillehay et al. 1992; Dillehay
2000; Scheinsohn 2003). However, bifaces were undoubtedly used by early South
American populations based on Scheinsohn’s (2003) observation that debitage
analyses at some “unifacial” sites has positively identified the presence of bifacial
thinning flakes. It is likely the unifacial tradition was simply part and parcel of a
technological organization containing a high degree of organic implements, includ-
ing an emphasis placed on wooden or bone and antler weaponry. This situation is
recorded in numerous ethnographic contexts, including the Cocopa of Baja
California, Mexico. The Cocopa relied almost exclusively on wooden projectile
points hardened by fire for projectiles in hunting and fishing (Kelly 1977).
Lithic technologies traditionally associated with an inland subsistence adapta-
tion are present along the Pacific coast of the Americas during the LP; it is unlikely
that cultures using these technologies were oblivious to the economic potential of
coastal waters. Early coastal sites such as PAIC-44 and PAIC-49, the Ring Site,
Quebrada Jaguay, Quebrada Tacahuay, Daisy Cave, and some Paiján sites include
lithic implements in direct association with marine resources. The composition of
the lithic assemblages within this macro-marine–terrestrial interface is rather

homogeneous, and inclusive to a generalized technological organization, suggest-
ing use of these toolkits in both environmental contexts. Therefore, it is postulated
that the overall pattern that emerges from the LP-aged New World Pacific coast
archaeological record reflects the presence of highly mobile and transhumant
coastal foragers implementing a generalized technological organization along the
Pacific coast and adjacent interior coastal plains and uplands.
Conclusion
Here, we suggest that early populations of the New World Pacific coast were
equally adept at terrestrial hunting-gathering and fishing-gathering in the littoral
and neretic waters (i.e., as coastal foragers), and their toolkits were manufactured
accordingly. Paleoenvironments undoubtedly differed in breadth both latitudinally
along the coast and longitudinally from the coastlines to the coastal plains and
mountains. A generalized technological organization is an appropriate description
of the lithic assemblages of the majority of sites in our early coastal sample. Rather
than viewing this feature as a simplistic adaptation to the environment, we see it as
an evidence for a very sophisticated interaction with a marine–terrestrial interface,
and the adaptation of technology to local situations and materials. Despite the fact
that the small assemblage samples of the LP-aged coastal sites do not contain
highly diverse sets of artifact types, the fact that an overall pattern of diversity is
found in the number of separate technologies present in early New World coastal
sites suggests that LP-aged groups were interacting extensively, or at least had the
ability to extensively interact, with both terrestrial and coastal environments. Future
development in the study of technology applied to specific environmental contexts
is needed to better interpret the range of adaptive variation reflected in the early
record of the Pacific coast of the Americas.
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Chapter 6
Technology, Mobility, and Adaptation Among
Early Foragers of the Southern Northwest
Coast: The View from Indian Sands, Southern
Oregon Coast, USA
Loren G. Davis and Samuel C. Willis
Introduction
The archaeological record of North America’s earliest Pacific Coast peoples provides
critical information relevant to questions of the timing, mode, and manner of the
peopling of the New World. This observation is relevant whether or not the first
New World peoples migrated along a coastal or interior (“ice-free corridor”) route.
At the very least, our knowledge of late Pleistocene and early Holocene-aged
human occupation in North America’s coastal zones is important for its compara-
tive value with other global records of coastal adaptations. Current knowledge
about late Pleistocene-aged human occupation of the Northwest Coast of North
America is limited to only a handful of sites bearing archaeological assemblages
typically comprised of only a few artifacts.
Excavations at the Indian Sands site (35CU67c), located on Oregon’s southern
coast, recovered a relatively large early lithic assemblage in a buried, well-stratified
depositional context spanning the late Pleistocene to middle Holocene periods
(Davis et al. 2004). Previous discussion of our excavations at Indian Sands has been
mainly descriptive, presenting primary facts about the site’s geoarchaeological
context (Davis et al. 2004; Davis 2006, 2008, 2009) and lithic technology (Willis
2004, 2005; Willis and Davis 2007). In this chapter, we provide a synthesis of all
available information related to the earliest archaeological components and offer
new perspectives on the poorly understood issues of technological organization and
regional mobility patterns among the earliest hunter-gatherers of North America’s
Northwest Coast (Fig. 6.1).
L.G. Davis (*)
Department of Anthropology, Oregon State University, 238 Waldo Hall,
Corvallis, OR 97331, USA
138 L.G. Davis and S.C. Willis
WA Kettle Falls MT
Hatwai
Goldendale
Cooper’s
Ferry
Pilcher Creek
OR ID
Devils Kitchen Sycan Marsh

Paisley Fivemile
Rockshelter
INDIAN SANDS Spodue Mountain
GF/LIW/RS
East
Medicine
Lake
CA NV UT
0 400
N
KM
Fig. 6.1 Map showing the location of the Indian Sands site on the Northwest Coast of North
America. Shaded polygon along coast marks hypothesized territorial extent of Component
1 hunter-gatherers. Triangles mark the location of obsidian sources traced to Component 1 debitage.
Shaded polygon in the interior Pacific Northwest represents the hypothetical territory of Pioneer
Period peoples of the Columbia River Plateau, following Ames (1988)
Stratigraphic Synthesis and Site Formation Model
The Indian Sands site lies on the southern Oregon coast approximately 8.5 km north
of Brookings, Oregon. The site is situated on an uplifted marine terrace 100 m east
of the Pacific Ocean and 30 m above mean sea level. The Indian Sands locality is
underlain by the Jurassic Otter Point Formation (JOP), which contains cryptocrys-
talline silicate clasts, serpentine, blueschist, various volcanic rocks, and sandstone
(Beaulieu and Hughes 1976; Monroe 1987) – all of which were technologically
important lithologies used by prehistoric Northwest Coast foragers.
Archaeologically relevant stratigraphic units at the Indian Sands site are illus-
trated in Fig. 6.2 and include pedogenically altered eolian sediments of the 3Ab
horizon, which are unconformably overlain by eolian dune sands of the 2C horizon.
The age of the 3Ab horizon was initially established by Davis et al. (2004), based
on its stratigraphic position above a truncated late Pleistocene-age (15,600 ± 1,800
cal BP) paleosol (4Bsb), and below the surficial 2C dune sands upon which lie a
deflated lag of early Holocene-age marine shells ranging in age from 8,510–9,320
cal BP that may or may not include fossil specimens (Moss and Erlandson 1998;
6 Technology, Mobility, and Adaptation Among Early Foragers 139
Fig. 6.2 Overview photograph of excavations in progress at 35CU67c during 2003
Davis 2009; cf. Erlandson 2009). Recently, Byram (2009) has described historic
accounts of prehistoric shell middens being mined and redeposited as roadbed
aggregates along the Oregon coast. This process, he explains, may lead to the mis-
identification of shell scatters, like that at Indian Sands: “There may be instances
where shell road lenses are easily mistaken for in situ midden deposits, particularly
if roads are abandoned and revegetated. And shell road remnants themselves likely
hold cultural materials other than shell” (Byram 2009:12). In light of these new
considerations, we are now hesitant to use Moss and Erlandson’s (1998) shell dates.
Nevertheless, the chronostratigraphy presented by Davis et al. (2004) stands alone
without these shell ages, as explained below. Fragments of charcoal from undis-
turbed sediments were found in direct stratigraphic association with lithic debitage
and were adhering to fragments of fire-cracked rock in the lower part of the 3Ab
horizon, ca. 10 cm above the 3Ab-4Bsb contact. These charcoal fragments returned
an AMS age of 10,430 ± 150 RCYBP (12,799–11,819 cal BP @ 2 sigma) and are
considered to reflect the timing of cultural activity related to cooking or the use of
a warming hearth.
During excavations conducted in 2003, a series of four thermoluminescence
(TL) samples were collected from the 3Ab horizon in excavation Unit F to test the
site chronostratigraphy presented by Davis et al. (2004). These TL samples returned
ages between 9,030 ± 900 cal BP and 6,440 ± cal BP (Table 6.1) (Davis 2006, 2008,
2009). In a depositional context in which sediments accumulate slowly and can be
subjected to limited vertical mixing, the use of TL dating may reveal when a strati-
graphic unit was completely buried and no longer subject to the processes of
140
Table 6.1 Stratigraphic distribution of cultural components and their associated artifact assemblages by excavation unit
Unit (cm below Cultural Fire-cracked
datum) Horizon component Chronometric ages Debitage Tools Lithics (N) rock
A,C,D,E,F,K,L (0) 2Ca 3 Lagged deposit potentially spanning early Holocene 1,217 13 1,230 34
through late Holocene; associated with
questionable shell ages of 7,790 ± 70 year BP;
8,150 ± 120 year BP; 8,250 ± 80 year BP
(Moss and Erlandson 1998; cf. Davis 2009)
Subtotal 3 1,217 13 1,230 34
A (0–50) U3Abb 2 269 269
D (0–42) U3Ab 2 211 4 215 26
E (0–32) U3Ab 2 209 1 210 13
c
F (0–67) U3Ab 2 6,440 ± 670 cal BP @ 17 cmbd c6,950 ± 810 cal 734 6 740 24
BP @ 27 cmbd c8,460 ± 960 cal BP @ 37 cmbd
c
9,030 ± 900 cal BP @ 52 cmbd
K (0–22) U3Ab 2 306 306 11
L (0–32) U3Ab 2 366 1 367 14
Subtotal 2 2,095 12 2,107 88
A (50–70) L3Abd 1 10,430 year BP (12,930–11,690 cal BP) @ 70 cmbd; 61 2 63 7
(14C date on wood charcoal)
D (42–62) L3Ab 1 52 1 53 4
E (32–52) L3Ab 1 98 3 101 8
F (67–87) L3Ab 1 103 2 105 8
K (22–52) L3Ab 1 275 3 278 15
L (32–52) L3Ab 1 217 1 218 14
Subtotal 1 806 12 818 56
Total 4,118 37 4,155 176
a
2C = Surface; bU3Ab = Upper 3Ab deposit; cThermoluminescence assays; dL3Ab = Lower 3Ab deposit
L.G. Davis and S.C. Willis
bioturbation. As sediments are gradually added to the site through time, this zone
of bioturbation is incrementally elevated, and deeper portions of the deposit no
longer receive light-exposed sediments. Once a deposit achieves this level of stability,
its sediments begin to accumulate radiation in the absence of light. Thus, in the
context of the site formation processes described above, a TL date from the 3Ab
horizon indicates when that portion of the site was fully buried and no longer influ-
enced by bioturbation. On such a basis, these TL age estimates provide minimum
limiting ages, since the timing of their sedimentation must be older than their asso-
ciated TL age. While this dating technique does not have the same potential level
of accuracy that radiocarbon dating offers, TL analysis allows us to state confi-
dently that the archaeological materials associated with a TL-dated sediment sample
must be older than its TL age. Knowing the TL age of a stratigraphic layer in an
archaeological site provides a means for critically evaluating the validity of other
chronometric or relative dates. Thus, the TL and radiocarbon chronology from the
3Ab horizon indicates an internally consistent chronostratigraphic framework and
supports the initial interpretation made by Davis et al. (2004) that early hunter-
gatherers occupied Indian Sands during the terminal Pleistocene.
Cultural Components
In consideration of the site’s temporal framework, archaeological materials associ-

ated with the 3Ab horizon can be divided into late Pleistocene and early Holocene
cultural components. The 3Ab horizon thins and eventually disappears from pro-
files to the west of Unit F due to landward erosion of unconsolidated deposits.
Through time, this process has deflated the upper portion of the 3Ab horizon,
creating a lagged deposit of cultural material that covers the surface of the site.
Because the 3Ab horizon lacks internal unconformities and accumulated gradually,
based on the position of TL dates, we consider cultural materials recovered from
the lower 20 cm of the 3Ab horizon to represent late Pleistocene-age site use and
these cultural materials are parts of Component 1. Cultural materials recovered
from 3Ab sediments above the bottom 20 cm probably date to the early Holocene
and are grouped into Component 2. Cultural materials recovered from the surface
of the site and from within the 2C sands are classified as Component 3. Cultural
materials and marine shells scattered on the surface of the 2C sands to the west of
our excavation units were not used in this study.
Figure 6.3 shows the stratigraphic distribution of cultural components at
35CU67c. Component 3 is a deflated layer of lithic tools, debitage, and burned
shell. The TL ages associated with Component 3 are middle Holocene-aged to the
east, in the area of excavation unit F. Deflation probably exposed and lagged out
early Holocene-aged and later cultural materials on surfaces to the west, in the
vicinity of excavation unit A. Considering that the 3Ab horizon has been com-
pletely deflated along the site’s western edge, a lag of late Pleistocene through
middle Holocene-aged cultural materials may be present at the 2C-4Bsb boundary.
142
East West
active
Units Unit F dune Unit A
Depth
(m) L and K 0 0 2C Unit B
0 2C †6440 ±670 cal BP
3Ab 0
†6950 ±810 cal BP IS-1 •10,430 ±150 RCYBP
3Ab 3Ab †8460 ±960 cal BP (12,090-12,420 cal BP)
Unit C
0.5
Profile 0.5 4Bsb 2C cal BP
0.5 †9030 ±900 cal BP 0 0 *8510-8640
3Ab 0.5 *8980-9300 cal BP
4Bsb 2C *9120-9320 cal BP
4Bsb †15,600 ±1800 cal BP
1 4Bsb 0.5
0.5 4Bsb †21,900 ±3300 cal BP
4Bsb
stratigraphic distribution of buried early to
middle Holocene-aged cultural component 1 4Cb1 †22,800 ±3700 cal BP
stratigraphic distribution of buried late
Pleistocene-aged cultural component
1.5 4Cb2 †35,600 ±5600 cal BP
sandy texture
loamy texture •26,240 ±270 cal BP
foreset bedded sand 5Ab 6Cb1 •28,830 ±330 cal BP
2
marine shell, debitage, and pebbles 6Cb2
14C date on charcoal
• 14C date on marine shell 2.5
*† TL date on quartz sand 6Cb3
soil development
erosional unconformity 3
Fig. 6.3 Stratigraphic correlation along east-west axis through 35CU67c

Although we report our study of Component 3 lithic artifacts, we question the utility
of this component as an analytical unit because it may contain archaeological
materials spanning the early to late Holocene periods in areas east of excavation
unit A, and also because it may include redeposited cultural materials historically
mined from a shell midden and used as road bed aggregate (Byram 2009) in areas
to the west of unit A. For these reasons, our following discussion largely focuses
on the archaeologically intact Component 1 and 2 assemblages.
Component 3 includes a total of 1,217 pieces of lithic debitage, 13 tools, and
34 fragments of fire-cracked rock (Table 6.1). The tool assemblage includes a rela-
tively high frequency of finished bifaces (n = 3, or 23%) and nonformal modified
flakes (n = 5, or 39%). Two of the fragmentary finished bifaces retain partial bases
and midsections. The forms of these two bifaces appear to be willow-leaf-shaped
(i.e., foliate) with a slightly contracting basal margin, or are stemmed with weak
and rounded shoulders. The remaining finished biface fragment is a proximal
basal portion and is further indistinguishable in form. Two formal modified flakes
were recovered in the 2C horizon and are considered to be end scrapers. The two
end scrapers are circular in plan view, tabular in cross section, and exhibit pat-
terned retouch along approximately 90% of the circumference of the flake margin.
The retouched margin terminates at the platform area of the original flake (a fea-
ture most likely for hafting). The direction of edge retouch originates from the
lateral surface of the flake. Core technology in the Component 3 assemblage
includes two large multidirectional flake cores and is very similar to the core tech-
nology recovered from Component 1. The Component 3 toolkit displays a focus
on the manufacture of finished bifaces and formal and nonformal modified flakes,
which comprise 53% of the tool assemblage (Table 6.2). The Component 3 deb-
itage assemblage is comprised of JOP cryptocrystalline silicates (CCS) (n = 1,188,
or 97.6%) and imported obsidian (n = 29, or 2.4%). Debitage analysis reveals an
emphasis on late-stage tool production and maintenance. Typologically, the major-
ity of the flakes were broken flakes and flake fragments (sensu Sullivan and Rozen
1985). Platform remnant-bearing flakes retained multiple dorsal scars and plat-
form facets, largely produced during bifacial thinning. Aside from the formal
modified flakes, the Component 3 tool and debitage assemblage is very similar in
composition and morphology to the two underlying cultural components (Willis
2004, 2005).
The Component 2 artifacts are contained within the upper portion of the 3Ab
horizon (Fig. 6.3). Component 2 represents cultural occupation during the early and
middle Holocene, the temporal context of which is provided by four TL assays that
returned ages from 8,460 ± 960 cal BP to 6,440 ± 670 cal BP (Table 6.1). The artifact
assemblage from Component 2 includes 2,095 pieces of lithic debitage, 12 tools,
and 88 fragments of fire-cracked rock. Use of locally available JOP CCS was over-
whelmingly favored (n = 1,192, or 95.1%), with little obsidian debitage also present
(n = 103, or 4.9%). Late-stage tool production and maintenance is evident in the
Component 2 debitage assemblage. The majority of the debitage population is
contained in the broken flake and flake fragment category; there is a high frequency
of bifacial thinning flakes, and the platform remnant-bearing flakes retain multiple
144
Table 6.2 Summary and frequency of formal tools recovered in all soil horizons at 35CU67c
Horizon/component Lower 3Ab/C1 Upper 3Ab/C2 Surface 2C/C3
Unit A D E F K L (N) (%) A D E F K L (N) (%) A B C D E F G K L (N) (%)
Tool types
Early biface 1 1 1 1 4 33 2 2 1 5 42 1 1 8
Finished biface 1 1 2 17 3 3 25 3 3 23
Flake corea
Multidirectional 1 1 2 17 2 2 15
Modified flake
Formal 1 1 8 1 1 2 15
Nonformal 1 2 1 4 33 1 1 1 3 25 1 3 1 5 39
Sub-total 2 1 3 3 2 1 12 100 4 1 6 1 12 100 1 9 1 1 1 13 100
a
Flake core as described by Hester and Nelson (1978) and Brantingham et al. (2001)
dorsal scars and platform facets. Lithic tool manufacture during Component 2
occupations focused on the production of early-stage bifaces (n = 5), finished
bifaces (n = 3), and nonformal modified flakes (n = 3) (Table 6.2). The attributes of
the Component 2 tool assemblage are very similar to those of Component 1; how-
ever, unlike Components 1 and 3, no cores were found in the Component 2 assem-
blage. All finished bifaces in Component 2 appear to be basal fragments of hafted
foliate points, two of which were manufactured from imported obsidian.
The Component 1 lithic assemblage is associated with the lower 20 cm portion
of the 3Ab soil horizon (Fig. 6.3) and is considered to date to the late Pleistocene,
based on an associated AMS date of 10,430 RCYBP on wood charcoal (Davis et al.
2004). This assemblage includes 12 formed lithic tools, 806 pieces of lithic
debitage, and 56 specimens of fire-cracked rock (Table 6.1). The Component 1 deb-
itage assemblage was composed of JOP CCS (n = 770, or 95.5%) and imported
obsidian (n = 36, or 4.5%). A dominant pattern observed in the Component 1
debitage population includes that of late-stage tool production and maintenance. As
with the debitage from the two overlying components, a high frequency of broken
flakes and flake fragments, evidence for multiple dorsal scars and platform facets
on platform remnant-bearing flakes, and a high frequency of bifacial thinning
flakes were seen in this earliest assemblage. Additionally, size and weight aggre-
gate analysis and a calculation of dorsal scar count and weight ratio (Carr and
Bradbury 2001) reveal a focus on late-stage reduction and tool production rather
than early-stage core production (Willis 2004, 2005). In the remainder of the paper,
we focus our attention on the Component 1 lithic assemblage.
Analysis of the Early Lithic Tool Assemblage
The Component 1 lithic assemblage consists of 12 formed tools that are classified as
early-stage bifaces (n = 5, or 33%), finished bifaces or projectile points/knives (n = 2,
or 17%), flake cores (n = 2, or 17%), and nonformal modified flakes (n = 3, or 33%)
(Fig. 6.4). Analysis of the formed tool assemblage was rather straightforward and
included a description of tool morphology and measurement of linear and weight
dimensions (Table 6.3). Bifaces were classified according to production stages
described by Callahan (1979) and Connolly and Jenkins (1999). The early-stage
bifaces share similarities with Callahan’s (1979) stage II and III bifaces, which are
characterized by the following: the presence of little to no cortex, straightening of
the majority of the bifacial lateral margins, flake removals crossing the implement
midline, relatively lenticular and flattened cross sections, and bifacial edge angles
ranging from ca. 25° to 45° (Callahan 1979; Connolly and Jenkins 1999). Finished
bifaces (i.e., projectile point/knives) from Component 1 include the following
features: extensive flaking on both faces, straightening of lateral margins, extensive
edge trimming, typically showing evidence for hafting, lenticular and flattened in
cross section, and edge angles that approximate 25° to 45°. Of the four modified
JOP CCS flakes from the Component 1 assemblage, all are nonformal in morphology.
Fig. 6.4 Examples of artifacts recovered at Indian Sands associated with Component 1: early
bifaces (a = K/258; b = E/156); core-on-flakes (c = A/34); and, a finished foliate biface basal frag-
ment (d = K/270). The distinction of letter/number refers to the excavation unit and catalog number
for each artifact and corresponds to data in Table 6.3
By definition, nonformal modified flakes are not manually retouched, lack extensive
edge modification that alters the original flake characteristics, and show evidence
of edge modification that is produced only as a result of use (Tomka 2001).
Tool Production and the Reduction Trajectory
Lithic analysis of the Component 1 assemblage reveals an emphasis on formal tool

manufacture through the production of large, early-stage bifaces from large flakes
(Table 6.2) (Fig. 6.4a, b). Finished projectile points are also seen here; however, the
Table 6.3 Measurements of formed tools from Component 1
Bifaces
Unit Cat. No. Material MxL MxWdt MxThk Wgt Edge°a BWb BM°c Stage
D 125 CCS 13.12 22.38 6.08 1.2 23 4.8 58 Finished
E 156 CCS 30.8 27.58 8.42 9 27 n/a n/a Early
F 202 CCS 46.46 32.48 10.18 15.4 48 n/a n/a Early
K 258 CCS 56.98 47.94 19 49.8 63 n/a n/a Early
K 270 obs 11.82 16.48 5.72 0.9 27 7.26 67 Finished
L 291 CCS 42.2 32.06 14.58 16.5 46 n/a n/a Early
Flake cores
Unit Cat. No. Material MxL MxWdt MxThk Wgt SRT
A 34 CCS 46.8 32.68 13.6 15.4 Broken
K 259 CCS 57.26 34.54 21.82 27.6 Complete
Modified flakes
Unit Cat. No. Material MxL MxWdt MxThk Wgt Edge° RT Locd B/Ue F/Nf
6 Technology, Mobility, and Adaptation Among Early Foragers
A 93 CCS 21.4 21.4 10.2 9.6 63 Proximal Unimarginal n

E 319 CCS n/a 23.54 6.7 2.7 36 Lateral Unimarginal n
E 162 CCS n/a 25.1 6.48 4.7 65 Lateral Unimarginal n
F 213 CCS n/a 12.14 17.14 1.7 62 Distal Unimarginal n
a
Edge° = edge angle; bBW = basal width; cBM° = basal margin angle; dRT Loc = retouch location; eB/U = bimarginal or unimarginal retouched margin;
f
F/N = formal or nonformal
147
fragmentary nature of each specimen suggests discard of broken items. Evidence

for replacement of hafted bifaces from the onsite JOP CCS source is seen in a
reconstruction of the early reduction trajectory employed at the site. We employ
three lines of evidence to infer the presence of a full reduction trajectory (i.e.,
extraction of raw material to manufacture of completed formal tools) during the
Component 1 occupation, including (1) the presence of large flake cores, (2) the
observation that all early-stage bifaces and finished bifaces retain intact platforms,
and (3) the mean linear dimension of all negative flake scars from lithic tools cor-
respond to the linear size class of the entire Component 1 debitage population.
The reduction trajectory begins with production of large flakes from a parent
JOP CCS nodule. Whether these CCS nodules were prepared cores or multidirec-
tional amorphous cores is currently unknown. Once detached, these large complete
flakes were implemented as cores (i.e., flake cores) (Fig. 6.4c, d). For the purpose
of clarification, we make a distinction between a flake blank and a flake core.
A flake blank is defined as “a usable piece of lithic material of adequate size and
form for making a lithic artifact, such as unmodified flakes of a size larger than the
proposed artifact, bearing little or no waste material, and suitable for assorted lithic
artifact styles (Crabtree 1999:28).” A flake core is similarly a large macroflake but
can produce debitage large enough to furnish useable flakes for further modifi-
cation (Luebbers 1978; Brantingham et al. 2001). The two flake cores from
Component 1 are relatively long and thick, with prominent single-faceted platforms
(Table 6.3). Flaking patterns reveal that these flake cores were reduced and shaped
along their lateral margins, ultimately resulting in the creation of an early-stage
biface. These early-stage bifaces include a pseudocollateral flaking pattern and
retain a prominent platform. Although the specific manner in which these early
bifaces were used is not clear, extended reduction of the early-stage bifaces may
have continued until a finished biface was produced. Alternatively, the early bifaces
may have served as small portable cores, or as scraping and cutting implements
reminiscent of Kelly’s (1988) multipurpose core/tool favored by highly mobile
foragers. Thus, the trajectory of biface production may support diverse functional
outcomes based on different technological needs.
The finished bifaces appear as fragmentary basal segments, with each specimen
retaining the platform created on its original flake (Fig. 6.4e). The retention of the
platform on the proximal ends of both the early and finished bifaces appear to be a
design strategy and a planned characteristic of the Component 1 reduction trajec-
tory. Retention of the original platform may represent an engineering design used
to produce a stronger haft element that could better resist failure from impact forces
associated with its use as a projectile weapon. We hypothesize that projectile point
fracture due to bipolar compression induced between the haft element and the target
material might be reduced if the original flake platform, which had been kinetically
preloaded during its initial production, is retained as a design element of the haft’s
basal area. Conceptually, the original flake platform had already bore the brunt of
a strong percussive force; retouching this feature during point production would
only weaken an inherently strong part of the objective piece.
The Lithic Landscape: Elucidating Early Mobility Patterns
Although preserved organic materials that might otherwise help us understand the
resource catchment and larger environmental area exploited by the early occu-
pants of the Indian Sands site are absent in the buried cultural components, we
can approach an understanding of prehistoric land use by examining the prove-
nance of lithic materials. In the case of the Component 1 assemblage at Indian
Sands, lithic raw materials were derived from the immediately available JOP CCS
source and from obsidian sources located nearly 300 km away. The majority of
the Component 1 assemblage is composed of on-site JOP CCS (n = 781, or
95.5%). Cryptocrystalline silicate-bearing sedimentary, metamorphic, and igneous
bedrock units of the JOP formation are common throughout southwestern Oregon
(Monroe 1987). The JOP CCS nodules available at Indian Sands and at in situ
outcrops at the nearby Rainbow Rock source are naturally uncorticated, thus
rendering the triple cortex typology analysis (Mauldin and Amick 1989) useless
to infer early-stage reduction activities that are better revealed by size and weight
aggregate analyses (Ahler 1989), a free-standing typology (Sullivan and Rozen
1985), a technological typology (Andrefsky 1998; Odell 2003), an attribute
analysis including platform remnant-bearing flakes (Andrefsky 1998; Odell
2003), and a dorsal scar count and weight ratio (Carr and Bradbury 2001).
Because obsidian is exotic to the Oregon coast, its presence as debitage in the
Component 1 assemblage reveals the operation of extensive trade routes, patterns
of regional mobility, or both processes. Component 1 contains obsidian (n = 37, or
4.5%) that originates from volcanic sources located in central Oregon and northern
California. Two Oregon sources include Spodue Mountain (n = 25, or 67.6% of the
Component 1 obsidian) located 270 km ENE, and Silver Lake/Sycan Marsh (n = 4,
or 10.8%), which lies ca. 290 km ENE of Indian Sands. Obsidian was also linked
to the Grasshopper Group source (n = 8, or 21.6%), which is located 235 km ESE
in the East Medicine Lake highlands of northern California.
The Component 1 obsidian debitage population is small in quantity and indi-
vidual flake size, which are traits that are typical of lithic toolstone materials
imported from great distances. The appearance of obsidian debitage in small sizes
and quantities, and disposal of the hafting element of an obsidian foliate biface
meets the expectations of a “decay-like” model (Féblot-Augustins 1993; Beck et al.
2002; Brantingham 2003), wherein the size of discarded artifacts and their associ-
ated debitage should show a strong negative correlation with the distance from their
material source. Thus, as toolstone is transported farther and farther from its point
of origin, it will be represented in smaller and smaller quantities and sizes within
an assemblage. Féblot-Augustins (1993) hypothesizes that toolstones available
within 0–5 km will contribute 60–80% of a typical assemblage, whereas imported
toolstone with source distances of 200 km or more will dramatically drop in fre-
quency, typically comprising less than 1% of the assemblage. Efforts to extend the
utility of tools made from distal toolstone source materials will appear as extensive
rejuvenation of functional margins, extensive reworking of broken items, and/or the
discard of exhausted and broken tools including, in the case of Indian Sands,
fragments of finished hafted bifaces (Gramly 1980; Beck and Jones 1990).
Strategies employed to conserve toolstone materials are expressed through the
extensive reworking and retouching of tools to maximally extend their use life.
Toolstone conservation behaviors can also be identified in which higher ratios of
formally modified tools to nonformally modified tools are present in lithic assem-
blages. This decay-like model is also thought to reflect the optimal use of materials
and efficient expenditure of energy required to obtain high-quality toolstones
through the design and use of formal lithic tools that are easily transported, resistant
to breakage, and can be repaired as needed (Torrence 1989; Nelson 1991; Beck
et al. 2002). The imported and locally available toolstone frequencies, their dis-
tances to sources, and formal tool composition reveal a distinctive pattern in the
Component I assemblage at Indian Sands that conforms to a decay-like model.
Regional Comparisons of Lithic Assemblages
Analysis of the ratio between assemblage size and the diversity of formal tools and
tool types in an assemblage are used to measure site function and technological
organization. Following Kelly (2001), the assemblage size is the total number of
artifacts (e.g., lithic tools and debitage; organic tools) and the assemblage diversity
is simply calculated as the number of tool categories or tool types divided by the
total amount of tools in the entire assemblage. A linear regression is then per-
formed, with the assemblage size as the independent variable and the diversity of
the assemblage as the dependent variable. According to some scholars (Camilli
1983; Shott 1989; Kelly 2001), a high regression slope indicates a greater degree of
sedentism. Theoretically, a site that is occupied repeatedly over a long period of
time for the purpose of conducting various activities will accumulate a lithic assem-
blage that reflects a diverse set of specialized technological applications. Conversely,
a low regression slope signals either high residential mobility (i.e., short term occu-
pation of a site) or an occupation involving a limited set of logistically organized,
task-specific activities marked by an assemblage that is both generalized in its
technological organization and lacking diversity (sensu Binford 1979). A regres-
sion with a negative slope typically indicates high residential mobility that leaves
only an ephemeral trace of site occupation, with low assemblage diversity (Camilli
1983; Shott 1989). The strength of this analytical method is found in its ability to
generate multiple comparisons of site assemblages from basic information com-
monly presented in journal articles and site reports. In order to ensure a good com-
parative sample, Shott (1989) recommends inclusion of key criteria: several
assemblages must be compared; chronological and physical distance of the assem-
blages should be minimized; the degree of cultural complexity among sociocultural
groups in question should be minimized; and compared assemblages must include
at least one tool type that corresponds to a tool taxonomy shared (in at least one
case) by all other assemblages.
Table 6.4 Comparison of lithic assemblage size (N) and diversity (H) among early
Northwest Coast sites
Site Chronology N H
Indian Sands U3Ab (Willis 2005) MH/EH 2,107 0.33
Indian Sands L3Ab (Willis 2005) LP 818 0.42
35CS9 (Hall et al. 2005; Davis et al. 2006) MH/LH 867 0.24
35CS9 (Hall et al. 2005; Davis et al. 2006) MH/EH 396 0.75
Tahkenitch 1 (Minor and Toepel 1983) EH 80 0.71
Tahkenitch 2 (Minor and Toepel 1983) MH 241 0.17
Yachats (Minor 1991) MH 2,467 0.15
Duncans Point Cave (Schwaderer 1992) EH 273 0.12
Namu (Carlson 1996; Rahemtulla 2006) EH 44,020 0.07
Richardson Island 1 (Fedje et al. 2005a) EH 151 0.55
Richardson Island 3 (Fedje et al. 2005a) EH 2,014 0.26
Arrow Creek 1 (Fedje et al. 2005a) EH 791 0.11
Lyell Bay South Lower (Fedje et al. 2005a) EH 681 0.04
Lyell Bay South Upper (Fedje et al. 2005a) EH 184 0.13
Lyell Bay East Lower (Fedje et al. 2005a) EH 107 0.12
Lyell Bay East Upper (Fedje et al. 2005a) EH 126 0.19
Kilgii Gwaay (Fedje et al. 2005b) EH 4,029 0.12
df = 24, Y-intercept = 6.54, Slope = −1.04, r2 = 0.045
In order to place our analysis of the early lithic technology from Indian Sands
into a larger regional context, the assemblage size:diversity ratio was calculated for
Components 1 and 2, which were then compared against ratios for 23 early to
middle Holocene-aged archaeological components from other Northwest Coast
sites (Table 6.4). Regression analysis of size and diversity among these early
Northwest Coast archaeological components produced a low Y-intercept of 3.6 and
a slope of −0.76 (Fig. 6.5) possibly suggesting the following: early foragers of the
Northwest Coast practiced a limited range of activities at their sites, commonly
recycled and reused tools, and were highly mobile (Camilli 1983; Kelly 2001).
Furthermore, the nonsignificant linear regression value (r2 0.039, correlation coef-
ficient = −0.19) produced by this analysis indicates a strong inconsistency between
the structure of early site assemblages at synchronic and diachronic scales (middle
Holocene linear regression values include: r2 0.146, correlation coefficient = −0.38,
while early Holocene linear regression values include: r2 0.05, correlation
coefficient = −0.22). Yet, it is quite obvious that the negative relationship defined
by the linear regression in Fig. 6.5 is affected by extreme outliers- namely, components
Fig. 6.5 Linear regression of assemblage size (N) against diversity (H) rates for selected early
Northwest Coast archaeological sites listed in Table 6.4. Circles indicate extreme outliers
Fig. 6.6 Linear regression of assemblage size (N ) against diversity (H ) rates for selected early
Northwest Coast archaeological sites listed in Table 6.4 with removal of outliers (circled in Fig. 6.5)
Namu, Richardson Island I, the early Holocene component from 35CS9, and
Tahkenitch I. If these components are removed to achieve a more normal distribu-
tion (circled in Fig. 6.5), a positive, albeit slight, relationship may be observed
(df = 20; Y-intercept = 6.6; slope = 0.18; r2 = 0.0017) (Fig. 6.6). With two exceptions,
both regression results (i.e., Figs. 6.5 and 6.6) are suggestive that early Northwest
Coast lithic assemblages exhibit low diversity (i.e., nonspecialized) technological
organization patterns, which would be highly adaptive in heterogeneous mosaic-
like coastal environments.
Economic Orientation and Mobility
Our analysis of the lithic assemblage from Indian Sands reveals that its early human
inhabitants manufactured and used a generalized lithic toolkit. Following Nelson
(1991), we expect that a generalized toolkit will include elements of maintain-
ability, transportability, and multifunctionality. Briefly, maintainability in toolkit
design allows for both flexibility and versatililty in its application. Transportability
refers to the degree to which a toolkit is portable. Multifunctionality is achieved by
designing a small range of tools that can perform a wide variety of tasks. The
observed emphasis on biface manufacture, coupled with a low diversity in lithic
tool types in the Component 1 assemblage at Indian Sands, is reminiscent of Kelly’s
(1988) discussion of the inherently generalized nature of bifacial tools. That early
hunter-gatherers at Indian Sands employed a generalized approach to technological
organization informs our understanding of early land use on the southern Oregon
coast. The concept of land use is subsumed under the rubric of spatial organization,
which is defined by the territory size of a foraging group, their standardized move-
ments within the territory, and the size of the foraging groups within the territory
(Schalk 1978). Because Schalk used ethnographic data to understand variation in
land use among Northwest Coast peoples, we can only address the broad modalities
of early coastal land use patterns as inferred from the Indian Sands Component 1
lithic data. Clearly, this is a difficult proposition, since information about prehis-
toric group size, territory range, and patterns of mobility practiced within the terri-
tory is not directly available. Accepting these limitations, we offer some hypothetical
perspectives on the possible range and mobility of early hunter-gatherer groups of
the southern Northwest Coast.
Our inference of territory size and movements are largely drawn from consider-
ations of lithic toolstone provenance, the nature of technological organization, and
recorded average mobility rates of ethnographic foragers. Let us first consider the
lithic raw material economy at Indian Sands. According to Kelly (1995) and Ames
(2002), the maximum distance an average hunter-gatherer can travel on foot in a
single day is approximately 20–30 km (cf. Binford 2001:Tables 7.10–7.13). Our
studies of raw material provenance indicate that Silver Lake-Sycan Marsh obsidian
was procured from a distance of ca. 290 km away, as the crow flies, and on average,
obsidian toolstone moved about 260 km to arrive at Indian Sands. Considering a
direct trip along one of the multiple east–west trending river valleys (e.g., the
Rogue River valley, the Umpqua River valley, the Klamath River valley via the
Trinity River in northern California), a trip to any one of the three obsidian source
locations would minimally require 10–12 days. Of course, this trip would be much
shorter if foragers employed canoes to facilitate upriver travel. This estimation does
not consider the time needed to establish residential camps and procure food along
the way.
O’Neill (2004) describes the use of central Oregon obsidians among early
Holocene foragers of the Umpqua River valley, with diminishing amounts of obsid-
ian occurring in sites located closer to the coast. Although O’Neill entertains the
possibility that this pattern may be the combined result of trade networks and direct
procurement, his consideration of direct procurement implies a pattern of land use
within a territory range of at least 27,500 km3 (O’Neill 2004:220). Ames (1988)
estimates early settlement patterns of early Columbia River Plateau hunter-
gatherers from the spatial distribution of similar technological and economic patterns
that characterize the late Pleistocene to early Holocene period. These patterns include
generalized lithic toolkits with stemmed and foliate points and flake core technolo-
gies. Ames argues that the distribution of these archaeological patterns may repre-
sent a foraging territory for the early Plateau period comprised of a few or many
hunter-gatherer bands encompassing an area of ca. 190,000 km2. In comparison, an
area ranging 290 km away in all directions from Indian Sands would encompass all
of the sources of obsidian found in the Component 1 assemblage. This 86,000 km2
area might represent a smaller but contemporaneous foraging territory to that which
Ames (1988) proposes for the Plateau region (Fig. 6.1). If the presence of obsidian
from distant sources actually signals the presence of a large foraging territory dur-
ing the late Pleistocene to early Holocene period, as hypothesized for the Plateau
region, what are the causal factors behind such a situation? We can address this
question by considering regional population density, carrying capacity, and paleoen-
vironmental conditions.
First, if population densities in the region surrounding Indian Sands were very
low, large territories might have been required to maintain viable mating and social
networks. On the basis of lithic raw material provenance and considerations of
ethnographic hunter-gatherer population densities, MacDonald (1999:153) specu-
lates that a Great Plains Folsom forging group might have used a maximal territory
of ca. 109,000 km2 to “encounter trading, mating and social opportunities” but
more commonly moved within smaller areas. Comparatively, Amick (1996) antici-
pates a territory of ca. 120,000 km2 for Folsom foraging groups.
Second, use of a large foraging territory may have been needed to deal with
low environmental productivity or heterogeneous (i.e., low density, widely
spaced) resources that limited hunter-gatherer carrying capacity in the sur-
rounding landscape. The little information currently available regarding late
Pleistocene environmental conditions along the southern Northwest Coast indi-
cates that cold and dry glacial period conditions gave way to generally warmer
and wetter conditions after 10,500 RCYBP (Worona 1993; Worona and Whitlock
1995; Pisias et al. 2001). Lower sea levels of the late Pleistocene exposed many
additional square kilometers of additional land along Oregon’s coast, represent-
ing a significant element of regional landscape ecology that was absent in
middle to late Holocene times. Apart from direct evidence that early coastal
peoples used marine species at certain locations, we have little information on
how littoral and maritime resources were structured and distributed along the
Northwest Coast during the late Pleistocene.
Third, in the absence of direct information on marine resource structure, we can
hypothesize about the nature of the late Pleistocene resource base by considering
how the effects of seasonality at moderate to high latitudes may have imposed
a pattern upon resource availability. The parameters of Earth–Sun geometry in

operation during the late Pleistocene greatly enhanced seasonality in the Northern
Hemisphere (Kutzbach and Ruddiman 1993). At 11,000 cal BP, the Earth received
far greater summertime solar radiation than today and far less solar radiation during
the winter months. These different insolation patterns produced much warmer
summers, and far colder winters, and probably enhanced patterns of seasonal
resource abundance (cf. Fedje et al. 2004). Under these climate conditions,
extreme seasonal resource shortfalls may have created significant economic
stresses that could be alleviated by a coast-to-interior transhumant mobility pattern.
In the absence of data that indicate the time of year Indian Sands was occupied,
during the creation of Component 1, we cannot clearly know the timing of group
movements within the landscape; however, use of an east–west transhumance
through a series of discrete ecosystem types could have been adopted as a strategy
to counter seasonal resource instabilities that are characteristic of the temperate
modern-day Pacific Northwest and were undoubtedly more pronounced during
the late Pleistocene period.
Archaeological research conducted in the past few decades has improved our
understanding of the degree to which early peoples of North America were adapted
to coastal environmental contexts. In addition to expanding our view of marine
resource use, a pattern of late Pleistocene hunting in North American coastal
regions is also emerging from other sites like K1 Cave and Gaadu Din Cave in
British Columbia and Richard’s Ridge on Cedros Island (Fedje et al. 2004; Des
Lauriers 2006). These hunting patterns not only reflect what must be a more com-
plete view of early coastal adaptations within a larger resource catchment, but they
occur in the context of reduced northeastern Pacific upwelling (Davis 2011), which
may have strengthened the need for a maintaining an adaptive orientation that
enabled full use of coastal, pericoastal, and interior environmental resources. Thus,
our view of early coastal adaptations seems more complicated than previously con-
sidered, and it should given the fact that late Pleistocene coastal foragers of North
America probably lived in an environmental context where the abundance, distribu-
tion, and seasonal availability of resources were structured in significantly different
ways than during the Holocene.
If the presence of obsidian artifacts at Indian Sands actually indicates that early
coastal peoples ranged within a large territory, as we describe here, we also expect
that they would need to be able to create and use a toolkit suitable for use in peri-
coastal, riverine, and upland environments. Considering the technological and
material structure of the Component 1 lithic toolkit, it seems plausible to interpret
early southern Northwest Coast peoples as highly mobile, generalized foragers.
A generalized lithic toolkit emphasizing the production of bifaces offers a number
of solutions to diverse ecological problems. That the presence of bifaces should
automatically signal a lithic toolkit exclusive to terrestrial economies has been
questioned (Carlson 1998; Cassidy et al. 2004). Lyman et al. (1988) and Bennyhoff
(1950) provide evidence on how lithic bifaces can be integrated into harpoon
weapon systems used for hunting large marine animals. In his study of foliate
projectile points from early Pacific Northwest sites, Musil (1988) suggests that
their design accommodated use of a socketed haft – a technology commonly used
in harpoon systems (Bennyhoff 1950). Des Lauriers (2006) sees the presence of
finished lithic bifaces in late Pleistocene-aged occupations on Baja California’s
Cedros Island as part of a toolkit clearly adapted to a coastal economy. Just as the
presence of finished hafted bifaces at Indian Sands might signal a late Pleistocene
terrestrial orientation to some, this toolkit could just have easily been used to hunt
seals, sea lions, and other aquatic animals in a pericoastal environment. Thus,
bifaces hold great potential for solving the broad range of resource acquisition
problems early coastal foragers probably faced along the Northwest Coast of
North America.
Conclusions
In this chapter, we seek to provide new perspectives on technological organization,

economic orientation, and regional mobility patterns practiced by late Pleistocene-
age hunter-gatherers of the Pacific Northwest through the study of archaeological
components from the Indian Sands site. We conclude that the earliest human occu-
pants at Indian Sands employed a generalized approach to their technological
organization that was based mainly on locally available lithic raw materials. If early
regional human population levels of the Pacific Northwest were as low as other
contemporaneous areas of North America, then we may be justified in considering
the presence and form of obsidian debitage and tool fragments to indicate the scale
of macromovements in a regional territory (cf. MacDonald 1999), which appear to
have extended as far east as the Northern Great Basin. Given the late Pleistocene
paleoenvironmental context of the Pacific Northwest, we hypothesized that early
hunter-gatherers employed some kind of transhumant land use system, which
allowed them to move between pericoastal, riverine, mountain, and basin and range
environments of southwestern Oregon and northwestern California. We hypothe-
size that the early occupants of Indian Sands applied a flake and core lithic toolkit
well suited for the efficient production of large, early-stage bifaces, finished foliate
bifaces, flake cores, and nonformal modified flakes in the use of a wide range of
terrestrial and aquatic environmental contexts under a pattern of high residential
mobility. In conclusion, we believe that the early occupants of Indian Sands prac-
ticed an adaptive pattern that cannot be understood as a diametrically structured
orientation to Pacific Coast landscapes in which hunter-gatherers are either
“coastal” or “interior,” but not fully both.
Acknowledgements Research funds were provided to the authors by the National Oceanographic
and Atmospheric Administration’s Oregon Sea Grant office and by the Bernice Peltier Huber
Charitable Trust at Oregon State University. We extend our thanks to the peoples of the
Confederated Tribes of the Siletz Indians and the Coquille Indian Tribe for their support of our
research into the early archaeological period of the Oregon coast.
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Chapter 7
Of Clams and Clovis: Isla Cedros,
Baja California, Mexico
The Active Dialogue and Important Definitional Issues
What was once a reasonably direct archaeological debate regarding absolute

chronology has become markedly more complex and now encompasses not only
dating, but human ecology and agency, along with necessarily much broader frames
of reference. Recent discoveries and new examinations of older finds have opened the
door to a surge of reinterpretations, not all of which are very well anchored to reliable
data. I refer of course to the dialogues surrounding the initial Peopling of the New
World, although the general pattern of events described above could apply to the
maturation of any investigative effort. I consider this an exciting time to be researching
the earliest societies of the New World, although it is a time where the exuberance of
being freed from narrow interpretive limits must be tempered by continued, if not
heightened, rigor in the evaluation and recovery of data. Much of the nebulosity we
encounter is the result of inconsistent definitions and varying application of critical
terminology. I do not here call for rigid semantic standardization, but for a coherent
conceptual framework that will allow the community of Paleo-Americanist researchers
to communicate effectively across regional and theoretical boundaries.
Given the common focus of the contributors to this volume, defining what we
mean by “the Coast” or “Coastal” may be an appropriate point of departure. As
highlighted by Westley and Dix (2006:23), “… a secure definition of the coastal
zone and what constitutes a coastal adaptation is essential … a secure archaeo
logically relevant definition of the coastal zone would provide a boundary that
allows distinction between inland and coastal strategies of colonization.” This point
cannot be overemphasized, since the newly reinvigorated debate centers as much
around the human ecological strategies practiced by the initial migrants to the New
World as on the absolute timing of their arrival. In their recent paper, Westley and
M.R. Des Lauriers (*)

Department of Anthropology, Anthropological Research Institute, California State University,
Northridge, 18111 Nordhoff Avenue, Northridge, CA 91330, USA
162 M.R. Des Lauriers
Dix (2006:23) advocate a perspective on the coast that recognizes the dynamism
and variability inherent in that biome generally, while encouraging scholars to
assess “perceptually relevant changes in climate, sea level, geomorphology, ocean-
ography, and resources.” They then propose the integration of relevant archaeologi-
cal data, providing “insights as to whether coastal migration was likely given the
circumstances, and if so, what environmental processes existed that past humans
would have had to contend with.” Bringing the scale of analysis down to a particu-
lar coastline will allow us to highlight critical factors that may have influenced the
process of colonization. This also avoids the pitfall of simply prospecting for
increasingly older radiocarbon dates in the futile effort to find the “first” or the
“oldest” in any ultimate sense of the terms. If we can better understand the process
of initial peopling, then finding the very first sites may be unnecessary to reach
Fig. 7.1 Baja California with geographic areas discussed in the text

7 Of Clams and Clovis: Isla Cedros, Baja California, Mexico 163
solid conclusions regarding the social and ecological factors underlying the
Peopling of the New World in general, and geographically defined regions more
specifically.
Following this general approach, it seems appropriate to pursue an evaluation of
Mexico’s Baja California Peninsula (Fig. 7.1), at least as far as available data will
allow. The geography of the peninsula offers us a unique opportunity. Defining the
“coastal zone” is almost a moot point. At no point in the Peninsula can one be more
than 75 km from the coast, and in most areas, the distance is closer to 40 km. This
is not a significant distance to most hunter-gatherer groups, and crossing the pen-
insula could be easily accomplished in a 2–3 day walk. Baja California’s geography
can essentially be understood as two “coasts” back-to-back.
Defining “Coastal”
For purposes of this discussion, a “coastal adaptation” can be defined as one that
exploits a variety of littoral resources, depends upon the aquatic environment for
both resources and some degree of transportation, and cannot be sustained even
seasonally without access to the sea. There are examples of hunting and gathering
groups who seasonally exploit marine resources, but are not dependent upon them
year-round. I would exclude such flexible (but effective) strategies from the defini-
tion of a fully coastal adaptation. Such “part-time” resident groups are able to avail
themselves of a wider range of opportunities than specialists, and such an adapta-
tion could certainly have played a role in the initial Peopling of the New World, but
we must distinguish such a transhumant pattern from that displayed by truly
“coastal” people. This is not simple semantics, since much of the Terrestrial vs.
Coastal debate depends upon the coastal migrants practicing a distinctly different
lifeway from that of the fluted-point megafauna hunters.
To begin defining some of the basic features of the Peninsula, one immediately
notes the steep bathymetry that is common to much of the littoral zone surrounding
Baja California and the diverse richness of those waters (Steinbeck and Ricketts
1941; Gruhn and Bryan 2002; Fujita 2006; Des Lauriers 2006a). The steep bathym-
etry would have had at least two major effects: (1) early sites near the coastline
would have been less likely to be destroyed as a result of submergence during eus-
tatic sea-level rise; and (2) rocky shore ecological zones would have probably been
able to keep pace with all but the most rapid pulses of sea-level rise, resulting in
more stable resource bases along sections of coastline with appropriate bathymetry
and substrate.
The historically documented richness of the littoral resources found in Peninsular
waters cannot be assumed to extend back into poorly understood conditions of the
Pleistocene, and depending upon the strength of the California Current, the north-
west coastline of the Baja California Peninsula may have varied significantly from
modern conditions. The influence of the oceanic currents on the ecology of the
upper Sea of Cortez is uncertain, though increased flow of the Colorado River may
have had an ameliorating effect on environmental stability, at least when compared

to the heavily impacted modern situation.
Archaeological deposits on Isla Cedros, extending back at least 12,000 calendar
years BP (PAIC-44 and PAIC-49, see below), contain shellfish assemblages, which
include small quantities of cold water-loving red abalone (Haliotis rufrescens).
Apart from a very limited area of intense upwelling on the Pacific Coast near
El Rosario, Baja California, this is the furthest south that this species has been recov-
ered in archaeological sites. Principal members (>30% by proportional weight) of
the terminal Pleistocene-early Holocene mollusk species profile include California
mussel (Mytilus californianus) and Pismo clam (Tivela stultorum), and the icthyo-
fauna are dominated by temperate water species such as kelp bass (Paralabrax
clathratus), sheephead (Semicossyphus pulcher), and ocean whitefish (Caulolatilus
princeps).
If full Pleistocene oceanographic conditions were significantly different, by the
transition to the Holocene (~10,000 RCYBP), relatively modern current and upwelling
conditions were in force, at least for the immediate environs of Isla Cedros.
This raises the possibility that productivity of the marine littoral in the Isla Cedros
region was not significantly depressed during the time period between 12,000 and
9,000 calendar years before present. This is supported by a comparison of deep-sea
cores taken off of San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Isla Cedros (Morin 1971),
which suggests greater temperature shifts across the Pleistocene-Holocene boundary
in the area between Point Conception and the U.S. Mexican border than zones
around either San Francisco or Isla Cedros. The biogeographic continuity seen on
Cedros Island during the terminal Pleistocene-early Holocene transition – is
unlikely to have extended south along the Peninsula’s Pacific coast beyond Bahia
Magdalena, where sea surface temperatures, littoral composition, and species
distributions change considerably (Pondella et al. 2005).
Water, or the Lack Thereof
One of the ecological factors that may have limited the potential of the Baja
California Peninsula to draw early colonists is the relative dearth of potable surface
water. Today, major, stable oases exist at some locations in the mountains of the
central Sierras of the Peninsula, and water can be found at river mouths along
the coast as far south as El Rosario. Water becomes more of a problem south of the
Sierra San Pedro Martir, with the important and significant exception of Isla Cedros
(Fig. 7.2). Isla Cedros is a large, high, rocky island near the midpoint of the
Peninsula with abundant and reliable water. In contrast, the adjacent mainland is
exceptionally dry, and today, receives its water through a combination of long pipe-
lines running from the mountains and desalinization plants at places like Guerrero
Negro and Bahia Tortugas. During the late Pleistocene to early Holocene period,
this hydrologic situation would have been dramatically different, with dozens of
pluvial lakes in interior basins and generally more mesic conditions present
throughout the central Peninsula (Davis 2006). However, today, water availability
Fig. 7.2 The Isla Cedros-Bahia Vizcaíno region. The area covered in Fig. 7.2 is outlined
along the Peninsular coasts themselves would still have been more patchy and
uneven. Early settlement is likely to have been drawn towards those areas with the
most reliable water sources, such as the pluvial lakes and unusual, hydrologically
“fortunate” locales like Isla Cedros. These latter areas (though not as isolated and
oasis-like as they would later become) would have provided an incentive for
advancing populations to move very quickly through the poorly watered areas, and
for coastal locales to have made use of the most effective transport technology then
available to them – watercraft. Combined with the intensive early occupation docu-
mented for some areas, such as Isla Cedros (Des Lauriers 2006b, 2008; Davis 2007;
Erlandson et al. 2008), the restricted availability of water (though still more abundant
than today) may have resulted in a certain degree of settlement circumscription,
packing greater archaeological signatures into smaller areas, rather than evenly
distributing it along the coastline and throughout interior basins. Some increased
precipitation during most of the terminal Pleistocene – generally inferred for much
of western North America (Haynes 1993) – would have charged now depleted aqui-
fers, while rising sea level would have increased the pressure on near-shore aqui-
fers, perhaps driving some water closer to the surface than exists at present.
The ecology of the central two thirds of the Peninsula would have been rela-
tively arid compared to that encountered by southward moving migrants through-
out the terminal Pleistocene and early Holocene, though there was consistently
enough rainfall to support the pluvial lakes in interior basins (Davis 2003, 2006).
Despite the paleoenvironmental variation of the late Pleistocene and early Holocene
periods, the distinct floral community of the peninsula probably presented a steeper
gradient of ecological variation across space than was seen in the marine littoral
zone. The changing vegetation patterns would have presented an obstacle to any
terrestrial hunter-gatherer group with a strong economic focus on plant resources.
The obstacle would have only been overcome by knowledge and skill in processing
the Agave, leguminous shrubs, and other xerophytic flora today common on the
peninsula. Such resources are not abundant along the Pacific Coast north of the
U.S.-Mexican border, though they can be found to the northeast in the Colorado
Desert. Familiarity with this particular set of resources is important because of the
intensive processing required to make many of them edible. For example, raw
Agave (Fig. 7.3) is not only of little use as a food, but even the fibers are of limited
Fig. 7.3 Agave shawii on Isla Cedros, Baja California. Perhaps the single most economically
important plant for Late Period indigenous populations on the island (Des Lauriers and García-
Des Lauriers 2006). Archaeological remains of processing facilities (pits, ovens) required for its
exploitation have yet to be identified for the earliest phases of occupation
utility without particular harvesting and processing techniques, which must be

carefully balanced to ensure productive outcomes. However, direct evidence for the
economically significant exploitation of Agave as a staple food source has yet to be
recovered from early archaeological deposits on the Peninsula, though their pres-
ence and use have been confirmed by Agave charcoal and fibers recovered from
terminal Pleistocene deposits at PAIC-49 on Isla Cedros.
Pleistocene megafaunal remains have repeatedly been recovered or observed
at several locations along the Peninsula (i.e., San Quintin, El Rosario, San
Ignacio) going back to the eighteenth century (del Barco 1988). At least four
fluted projectile points have been documented in the Sierra de San Francisco in
the vicinity of San Ignacio (Aschmann 1952; Gutierrez and Hyland 1994, 2002),
and two have been recovered from Isla Cedros (Des Lauriers 2008). However, none
of the available evidence has yet convincingly established the contemporaneity
of the megafauna and human presence on the Peninsula. In fact, the presence of
these Paleoindian points is more perplexing than illuminating, given what would
have been the significantly lower density of megafauna in the arid, restricted,
terrain of the Peninsula. Standard ecological thinking would predict that littoral
resources should have been far more attractive in their ease of c ollection and
general density – if the obstacle of limited availability of water could have
been overcome.
Boat-building materials would have been limited along much of the coast, espe-
cially with rising sea levels drowning coastal marshes. Springs in the central
mountains often have stands of tules and reeds, and pine forests may have existed
at lower elevations of the central Sierras (Rhode 2002; Davis 2006), though trans-
porting a sufficient quantity to the coast would have been awkward, but not impossible.
Some locations would have collected large quantities of driftwood, particularly
north and northwest facing beaches and the northern sides of points and capes
along the Pacific coast. These locations also tend to have steep bathymetry and
rocky shore littorals, even if longshore sediment transport generates some sand
beaches at these locations.
The factors that might be expected to condition the patterns of Peninsular settle-
ment by the First Americans can be summarized as follows: (1) only “coastal” and
pericoastal zones are available in Baja California – walking down the central moun-
tain ranges, it would be impossible to move into the Peninsula without feeling the
climatic effects of the ocean, and seeing one, or sometimes two, coastlines from the
central spine of the Peninsula is not uncommon – thus, making strong distinctions
between coastal- and interior-oriented foragers is probably meaningless; (2) early
settlements positioned along the Pacific slope of Baja California are more likely to
have avoided submergence by eustatic sea-level rise due to the presence of relatively
steep bathymetry; which would also have provided more stable ecological zones
along some stretches of coastline; (3) terrestrial hunting might be more difficult and
less productive than littoral foraging, considering the relatively lower terrestrial pro-
ductivity and size of the Peninsula’s interior area (compared to more northerly areas
of western North America), and the relative richness of nearby littoral ecosystems;
and (4) plant use probably increased later in time, after collectors learned to exploit
the xerophytic floral communities found on the majority of peninsular terrains,

which achieved their greatest extent following the onset of desert conditions in the
early Holocene; and finally, (5) regardless of how closely modern conditions mirror
those at the end of the Pleistocene, it is certain that water was less available on the
peninsula than along the continental coastline to the north. This would have been the
first time that coastal migrants would have encountered this difficulty. How quickly
they found springs, seeps, and tanks, or how soon they learned to dig batequis (wells
dug in the beach at arroyo mouths, above high tide, taking advantage of the differen-
tial density of salt and fresh water) would have determined how long this obstacle
stood in their way to southward movement along the coast.
Isla Cedros, Baja California
Searching for a location where early occupation could have been focused, and
where sufficient water and boat-building materials could have mitigated the lack of
such along much of the Peninsular coastline, Isla Cedros presents itself as an excel-
lent opportunity to further investigate the factors presented above. What is para-
doxical about the data from this island is that it both reaffirms some of these ideas,
while presenting us with information that cannot be so easily explained. Especially
curious are the only two known examples of Paleoindian fluted point from a Pacific
coast island (Des Lauriers 2008). The Arce-Meza fluted-point site (PAIC-70), like
other fluted point localities on the Peninsula, is largely a surface deposit of lithic
materials. In addition to the basal fragment of a bifacially fluted point, other large-
format bifaces, unifacial scrapers, a variety of flake tools, and a substantial amount
of debitage were also observed on the surface. Except for the fluted point, the lithic
technology of PAIC-70 is markedly similar to that recovered from Richard’s Ridge
(PAIC-49) and Cerro Pedregoso (PAIC-44), two stratified shell middens on the
island (Fig. 7.4) that contain basal strata dating in excess of 12,000 cal BP
(Table 7.1; cf. Des Lauriers 2006b, 2010).
Table 7.1 Terminal Pleistocene 14C dates from PAIC-44 and PAIC-49. Calibrated date ranges
represent the full range of all intercepts at 2 sigma. Calibration conducted with Calib 5.0.2 and
utilizing an empirically determined ∆R value of 50 ± 25 (Taylor et al. 2007). The reader is directed
to Des Lauriers 2006b and 2010 for all currently available dates from PAIC-44 and -49
PAIC-site/ 14C age (RCYBP/
Laboratory No. context Layer Material 13C/12C(‰) Cal BP)
UCIAMS-12844 -44c/unit 1 D Chione –0.6 10,520 ± 30/11,850–
shell, pair 11,340 BP
w/-12859
UCIAMS-12859 -44c/unit 1 D Charcoal, pair –21.2 10,095 ± 30/11,960–
w/-12844 11,410 BP
UCIAMS-14388 -49/midden 20 cm Mytilus shell 2.7 10,745 ± 25/12,240–
probe depth 11,930 BP
The technological system characteristic of these early contexts on Isla Cedros

includes well-fashioned foliate and stemmed bifaces manufactured from quartz
(Fig. 7.5), quartzite, low-silica content chert, and metavolcanic material. One of
the most clearly diagnostic tool forms is not, however, a projectile point, but a care-
fully maintained unifacial tool with steep retouch and a high domed back (Figs. 7.6
and 7.7). These tools resemble similar forms found in a number of early contexts
in western North America (Rogers 1966) and the Baja California Peninsula (Des
Lauriers and Davis 2007). The fascinating aspect of this early industry as a whole
is not the elaboration of any particular form, but the ability of these stoneworkers
to manufacture highly refined, yet simple, forms from some of the most difficult
Fig. 7.4 Isla Cedros archaeological sites mentioned in the text. All contain components dating to
the Terminal Pleistocene/Early Holocene transition or earlier except for PAIC-32a (Late
Holocene)
Fig. 7.5 A weak-shouldered stemmed point manufactured from local quartz, recovered from
PAIC-44 in January of 2009 (see Des Lauriers 2006:265, Fig. 7.6c for a nearly identical specimen
from the same site). Bifaces such as this example typify the assemblage from early contexts on
Isla Cedros. While some variation in raw material choice and morphology exists, most of the vari-
ance seems to be a function of use-life progression for each artifact rather than any radical depar-
ture in technology or “style”
raw material types and configurations. This bespeaks a technological system that
was not tethered to any particular source or quality of raw material. This would
have been a flexible, generalized system that could not only be applied to varied
suites of resources, but could also have been replicated anywhere, from any avail-
able source of stone. This technological strategy would have been very advanta-
geous, particularly for colonizing populations who would not have yet located all
the available sources of stone, even in areas where they had begun to establish more
permanent settlement. Also, by practicing a technological system that can make use
of a very wide range of raw materials, the selection of appropriate locales for settle-
ment has one less constraint upon it, and considerations of food resources and
especially water can assume even higher priority.
The two excavated early sites on the island, Cerro Pedregoso (PAIC-44) and
Richard’s Ridge (PAIC-49), in addition to displaying dense concentrations of debitage,
Fig. 7.6 A steep-edged, unifacially retouched tool, manufactured from dark gray fine-grained,
metavolcanic stone and recovered at PAIC-44. This artifact and that shown in Fig. 7.5 are only two
examples of the most diagnostic artifact type for the earliest phases of occupation on Isla Cedros.
While some variability in form exists, the general concept, execution, and emphasis on clean,
ventral to dorsal unifacial retouch are consistent
centripetal cobble-cores, large and small format bifaces, groundstone, single-piece shell
fishhooks, and flaked clamshell, also contain evidence for the exploitation of a diverse
range of fauna (Des Lauriers 2006b). The large and rather well-preserved assemblage
of excavated shellfish remains includes rocky shore (i.e., Mytilus californiensis, Haliotis
cracherodii, H. rufrescens, and Lithopoma undosa), sandy shore (i.e., T. stultorum,
Protothaca staminea, and Chione sp.), and bay species (i.e., Ostrea megadon). The fish
include a wide range of species that must have been acquired with an equally varied set
of fishing equipment, as the list includes: small smelts (Atherinosidae), skates and rays
(including Myliobatidae), flatfish (Paralichthyidae), sheephead (Labridae), kelp bass
(Serranidae), and the often sizable white seabass (Atractoscion nobilis). The list of
major fauna continues, with consistent presence of sea turtle (cf. Caretta sp.), Guadalupe
Fur Seal (Arctocephalus townsendii), California sea lion (Zalophus californianus), and
sea bird remains throughout the occupational sequence of the excavated early sites
(Des Lauriers 2006b). Potentially even more indicative of a dominant emphasis on
marine harvesting tasks during the occupation of these early Isla Cedros sites is the
presence of notable quantities of sea grass (Zostera sp.) and other carbonized marine
floral remains.
Fig. 7.7 A steep-edged, unifacially retouched tool from PAIC-49, and manufactured from gray
basalt. Note the emphasis on the “sides” of this tool, in contrast to the attention paid to the outline
and profile of the “ends” of the tool in Fig. 7.4
One of the more perplexing and unresolved issues regarding the subsistence
economy of the initial colonizing populations on Isla Cedros involves the presence
of pygmy mule deer (Odocoileus hemionus cerrosensis) and brush rabbit (Sylvilagus
bachmanii cedrosensis) on the island (Mellink 1993). None of the Alta California
islands are home to native artiodactyls or leporids, all those currently found there
have been introduced within the last 500 years. Despite the availability of these
additional subsistence resources on Isla Cedros, terminal Pleistocene colonizing
populations appear to have largely ignored these taxa (Des Lauriers 2009). In fact,
from a total of approximately 11 m3 of cultural deposit, only a few dozen clearly
identifiable rabbit bones have been recovered, which contrasts greatly with the
discovery of more than 1,800 identified specimens of marine vertebrate bone.
During excavations by the author at PAIC-44 in January of 2009, preliminary
identification was made of a fragment of artiodactyl metapodial, along with a few
small fragments of dense cortical bone, which may be attributable to these larger
terrestrial herbivores. However, such material was not widely distributed and was
recovered only from a single 1 × 2 m excavation unit, despite approximately 8 m3
of deposit being excavated and screened through 1/8″ mesh.
Recent work with the trans-Holocene faunal assemblage from Diablo Canyon in
central California (Jones et al. 2008) suggests that, where available, deer will be
exploited with some regularity, even when abundant marine resources are available.
Perhaps the early colonizing populations of Isla Cedros had, by the time of arrival in
central Baja California, become so emphatically focused on marine resources that their
habitual subsistence and settlement practices simply did not result in frequent encoun-
ters with Cedros Island deer. Today, these browsing herbivores favor the more heavily
vegetated upper slopes and westward draining arroyos. Thus, a possible explanation
for the vanishingly small quantity of deer bone may be that the landscape in the imme-
diate environs of the two excavated early sites may not have provided much opportu-
nity for fortuitous encounters between early Cedros Islanders and pygmy deer.
However, this would also mean that the inhabitants of Cerro Pedregoso and Richard’s
Ridge must not have been making frequent foraging trips into the interior of the island,
nor was deer apparently an attractive enough resource to encourage a subsistence shift
at any time during the first 1,500 years of the Island’s human history.
Given the selective focus on marine resource use indicated by the fauna and the
surprising (when compared with many other coastal sites) density of bifaces, projec-
tile points, and projectile point fragments recovered from the site, the dearth of ter-
restrial fauna is probably not indicative of an overriding dietary emphasis on plant
resources, or a different technological focus, as is often inferred for later Millingstone
assemblages in Alta California (Erlandson 1991; Jones 1996; Jones et al. 2002,
2008). The choice made by the early colonizing population of Isla Cedros to not
heavily exploit the native pygmy deer is interesting and could be explained by any
number of models anchored in behavioral ecology, including the search and trans-
port costs enforced by the rugged topography of the island; however, such avoidance
was not to remain the case for the whole history of the island.
Late Holocene sites contain ample evidence of deer exploitation, including sub-
stantial quantities recovered from the Punta Prieta site (PAIC-32a), which dates to
between 2,300 and 700 rcybp and is located less than 800 m from Cerro Pedregoso
(PAIC-44). The more recent native society of Isla Cedros apparently found the
potential value of pursuing deer significant enough to budget labor expenditures on
something other than the marine resources which abounded around their rugged
island home. They never did extirpate the deer, despite over 12,000 years of evidence
for their use by island people. This is an unusual pattern in human colonization of
islands, since the descendants of these deer still browse on fog-laden bushes in the
early morning hours and silhouette themselves on ridgelines at dusk on this remote
Baja California island. The lower emphasis on deer hunting apparently began with
the first arrivals on the island, and some measure of sustainability was maintained
for over 10,000 years. Despite significant continuities in the ecology of Isla Cedros
itself, and a presumed continuity of human populations, the drawn-out colonization
phase pattern did not last forever. By the end of the early Holocene, between 8,000
and 7,000 years ago, the “Paleopeninsular” technological system, settlement pattern,
and subsistence regime (Des Lauriers and Davis 2007), which had remained intact
across the terminal Pleistocene-early Holocene period, were gone, replaced by new,
and in some ways, less intensive patterns (cf. Des Lauriers 2009).
Recently, five other sites on the island have been located whose surface
manifestation, lithic assemblages, and shellfish profiles strongly resemble those from
the Richard’s Ridge (PAIC-49) and Cerro Pedregoso (PAIC-44), though further
work is required to confirm their contemporaneity. Clearly, what can be inferred
from an examination of the Isla Cedros record is a strong focus on, and capable
exploitation of, a diversity of marine and littoral resources at a very early date
(Des Lauriers 2006b). While these sites probably do not represent the earliest arrival
of humans on Isla Cedros, they almost certainly represent components left by the
earliest stages of human colonization along the Pacific Coast of the Peninsula. At
the same time, the strong emphasis on marine resources and relatively intensive
early occupation of Isla Cedros bespeak a population that was not unfamiliar with
coastal settings and aquatic resources. Indeed, if later demographic conditions are
any indication, the strong settlement viability of what is today the Isla Cedros region
for terminal Pleistocene human occupation may have also provided a “launching
pad” of a sort for further population movement down the Pacific Coast. While Isla
Cedros would have been marginally connected to the mainland at glacial maximum
(Des Lauriers 2006b), its imposing topography, unique hydrology, and salient position
as the tip of the Vizcaino “hook” probably made it an ecological “island” that was
part of a settlement “archipelago,” which included the pluvial lake basins and other
fairly stable, resource-rich locations stretching both north and south of this rugged
mountain-in-the-sea.
In conclusion, evidence for the terminal Pleistocene occupation of the whole
peninsula (Gruhn and Bryan 2002; Gutierrez and Hyland 2002; Davis 2003; Fujita
2006; Des Lauriers 2006b, 2008), the early, intense focus on marine resources, and
the clearly documented early occupation of peninsular coastlines and ‘islands’
contemporary with (if not earlier than) the occupation of similar locales further
north (Johnson et al. 2002; Erlandson et al. 2007, 2008) all circumstantially support
models which see the peopling of the New World being accomplished at least partly
by way of a dispersal of founding populations along the Pacific coast (Fladmark
1979; Gruhn 1988; Dixon 1999; Erlandson et al. 2002, 2007, 2008). However,
some models that have characterized the ecological foci of coastal migrants as
being just as specialized as the Clovis big-game hunters of the interior Llanos may
be missing important dimensions to this process that new data are beginning to
reveal. If the bearers of the Clovis tradition were, in fact, highly mobile, terrestrially
focused foragers, then the archaeological traces of such groups on the Peninsula
may represent short-term forays into uncharted territory that did not ultimately lead
to extensive colonization by follow-on groups practicing similar strategies. They
came, they saw, they left. Conditions may not have been suitable, or sustainable, for
groups with narrower technological requirements and subsistence strategies. The
actual initial colonization of the Peninsula, whether earlier, contemporary, or later
than Clovis, would therefore have been accomplished more effectively by techno-
logically flexible, broadly skilled opportunists. The technological systems employed
by Paleopeninsular groups (Des Lauriers and Davis 2007) are a strong indicator of
this strategic breadth and are fundamentally disparate from systems employed by
the Paleoindian populations of interior North America both immediately before and
during the Pleistocene-Holocene transition.
That early people of the Americas were innovative and resourceful is not in
question. That they were capable of adjusting their technology and behavior to
overcome virtually any ecological obstacle in their way is also a foregone conclusion.
What is particularly intriguing is that the new data seem to suggest that it was
precisely this flexibility and adaptability that formed the core of early technological
and social patterns, rather than rigid adherence to a narrowly focused lifeway. In
fact, the variability that we encounter in the archaeological signature of terminal
Pleistocene and early Holocene populations of the Baja California Peninsula must
be recognized as the palimpsest of days, weeks, months, years, decades, and even
centuries of human occupation at sites like Cerro Pedregoso on Isla Cedros, the
Covacha Babisuri site on Espiritu Santo Island (Fujita 2006), and the Abrigo
Escorpiones site south of Ensenada, Baja California (Gruhn and Bryan 2002).
Human–environmental relationships cannot be simply characterized as stable or
undergoing collapse. Rather, the cycles through which they can pass, in the constitu-
tion and maintenance of such systems, are dynamic and in a constant state of change
and flux (sensu Redman 2005). High-resolution records like those at PAIC-49 on
Isla Cedros, where the full 1.7 m of site deposits span little more than four centuries
of time (centered on 12,000 cal BP), will provide even better opportunities to under-
stand human behavior and ecological conditions during timeframes as variable and
dynamic as the Pleistocene-Holocene transitional period. Given such fluctuating
conditions, we should not imagine that early colonizing populations would have
been perfectly comfortable with either the new environments or their existing means
of interacting with the new flora, fauna, and landscape. As such, in these early sites,
we are seeing the accumulation of material deposited by people who were learning,
experimenting, and refining their relationship with the new natural and social worlds
to which they had journeyed, so very far from where they started.
Acknowledgments I would like to thank all those who have contributed to this project over the last
10 years. Some, such as the National Science foundation, The University of California Institute for
the United States and Mexico, the CSU, Northridge College of Social and Behavioral Sciences, the
Departments of Anthropology at both UC Riverside and CSU, Northridge, and the Keystone
Archaeological Research Fund, have provided financial or institutional support towards the advance-
ment of this research. Others like the many Cedros Islanders who have befriended me and my crews
over the years can never be repaid the generosity, hospitality, and enthusiasm that they have dis-
played over the years. I would thank Claudia García-Des Lauriers for support (both real and moral),
understanding, and especially her constructive criticism that has always made my work better.
Finally, this chapter is dedicated to my parents, Richard and Pamela, for always being there.
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Chapter 8
Changes in Molluscan Exploitation Patterns
During the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene
in Eastern Cantabria (Northern Spain)
Introduction
In the last 30 years, one of the liveliest debates in regional prehistory has revolved
around the economic and social changes occurring in hunter-gatherer societies in
the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene. At the present time, a consensus appears
to have been reached among the different authors regarding the existence of a
specialisation process in the capture of red deer and ibex during the Solutrean and
Magdalenian, and a later diversification in subsistence, with a greater exploitation
of other resources, such as smaller mammals, birds, fish, molluscs and crustaceans,
as occurred in other parts of Europe and Asia (Flannery 1969; Stiner 2001).
Although some authors maintain that, despite the specialisation, diversification
began to be evident in the Solutrean (Straus and Clark 1986:353), most researchers
agree that the process commenced in the Late Magdalenian and became more
generalised in the Azilian and especially during the Mesolithic (Gassiot 2000;
González-Morales 1982; González-Sainz 1989; González-Sainz and González-
Morales 1986; González-Sainz and González-Urquijo 2007), when it reached its
peak, due to a decrease in population mobility and an increase in the occupation
and probably the use of the coast (González-Morales 1995).
Within this diversification, molluscs played a role whose importance in the eco-
nomic strategies of human groups is generally difficult to assess. It is usually claimed
that the exploitation of molluscs slowly increased in importance within the hunter-
gatherers’ economic strategies, from a hypothetical minor use in the Upper
Palaeolithic to reach its greatest significance in the Mesolithic. Thus, some authors
(González-Morales et al. 1999; Ortea 1986; Straus and Clark 1986) have proposed
the existence of an intensification process in the use of these resources over time,
caused by the pressure of an increasing population. The reason for this is based
F.I. Gutiérrez-Zugasti (*)
Department of Archaeology, BioArch, University of York, Biology S-Block,
Wentworth Way, York YO10 5DD, England (UK)
180 F.I. Gutiérrez-Zugasti
mainly on two arguments: on the one hand, the larger number of sites located in
coastal areas during the Mesolithic, and on the other, a reduction over time in the size
of the most commonly gathered species, Patella vulgata. However, for other authors
(Bailey and Craighead 2003), the reasons given to explain this intensification pro-
cess are not sufficient to prove that the process existed. Although they accept the first
argument, in the case of the second, they propose that the variation in the size of
P. vulgata specimens is due to climate change, which caused this species to reduce
in size. In support of this hypothesis, apart from the biometric analyses themselves,
they carry out a study of the age distributions, whose results were interpreted in terms
of no overexploitation, which implied attributing the reduction in size to environmen-
tal factors. However, it is possible to make a critique common to both hypotheses, and
this is that basically they were both constructed from the evidence from a single site,
La Riera (in Asturias, in the western sector of Cantabrian Spain) supported by numer-
ous Mesolithic settlements (of the Asturian culture) existing in the same area, without
taking into account data from settlements in other parts of the region. In this respect,
it is true that until recent years, a gap has existed in the archaeomalacological record
for some parts of the region, especially in the centre and the east (Communities of
Cantabria and the Basque Country). However, data is now available from excavations
carried out in the last couple of decades, some of which are presented in this chapter
and which will help to review the hypotheses based on data from La Riera.
Another of the topics that has been discussed most frequently in the region is that
of settlement patterns. Studies on this aspect have pointed out that the occupation of
inland areas decreased significantly during the Mesolithic, in comparison with
earlier periods, and that most settlements were located in coastal areas (González-
Morales et al. 1999; Straus and Clark 1986). However, this does not mean that the
interior was not occupied during the Mesolithic, as has been shown by the recent
finds of new sites, such as Los Canes, Arangas, El Mirón, Cubío Redondo and
Cofresnedo. Nonetheless, despite this, it seems quite clear that coastal exploitation
increased during the Mesolithic although it is also necessary to take into account that
marine transgression in the Holocene has submerged the most of the Palaeolithic
coastal sites. As a result, it is not easy to know the coastal occupation ratio or the real
intensity of molluscan exploitation during those periods, so it is difficult to compare
them with later periods, such as the Mesolithic. Thus, our view of the economic
evolution of hunter-gatherers in the Palaeolithic–Mesolithic transition is partially
biased by the rise in sea level, and this fact should be taken into account (González-
Morales 1995:64; González-Morales et al. 1999:63) when we come to interpret the
data. On the other hand, the rise in sea level can be seen in the amounts of coastal
resources found in each archaeological layer, as the exploitation of these resources
and their economic viability is determined by the distance of the site from the shore.
Therefore, it is possible to obtain information about site functionality from the
accumulations of molluscs, at least as regards the exploitation of the coast.
In short, this chapter seeks to establish mollusc exploitation patterns over time
in the eastern part of the region, in the valleys of the rivers Asón and Agüera, and
determine whether the use of these resources intensified over time. Equally, settle-
ment patterns in relation to the position of the coastline and the functionality of the
sites will be analysed, based on the mollusc exploitation data.
8 Changes in Molluscan Exploitation Patterns During the Late Pleistocene 181
The Study Area and Its Environment
The study area is located in the eastern part of the Autonomous Community of
Cantabria (Spain) and includes the Asón and Agüera river valleys (Fig. 8.1). Today,
this area is characterised by a combination of different biotopes, especially the
estuaries of the two rivers, the coastal fringe, valleys, and mountains of varying
heights. These mountains are found not only inland but also by the sea, forming a
rather abrupt coastline. For example, the mouth of the River Agüera is flanked by
the hills of Cerredo (643 m) and Candina (472 m). The River Asón is similar;
surrounding its estuary are Monte Buciero (378 m), which is the location of some
of the sites providing information for this research, Pico Candiano (500 m) and Pico
del Hacha (173 m). As characteristically in Cantabrian Spain, the rivers are short
and abrupt, flowing between mountain ranges of considerable altitudes. Inland, a
succession of limestone hills, rise up to some 1,100 or 1,400 m. They were marked
by the formation of glaciers in the Pleistocene and orientated perpendicularly to the
ridges that the rivers flow between and mark the geographical boundary with the
Castilian Meseta. The whole area, both coast and interior, is dominated by lime-
stone lithology, giving rise to greatly karstified scenery, with numerous caves,
potholes and swallets.
The climate is oceanic, of the Atlantic type, although a number of peculiarities
in eastern Cantabria generate the existence of multiple microclimates in the area.
The average annual temperature in the coastal area is about 14°C, and this decreases
slightly as we move inland. Similar variations are found in the precipitation figures,
depending on the part of the region. Annual precipitation on the coast is generally
between 1,100 and 1,400 mm, and this increases inland.
The autochthonous vegetation consists primarily of deciduous forests. Between
sea level and 700 m above sea level, the forests are formed by deciduous oak, holm
oak, ash, lime, and other similar species. Between 700 m and the tree line, at
approximately 1,800 m, the forests are dominated by beech, oak and birch.
Material and Methods
For the analysis of changes in mollusc exploitation, data are available from a
number of sites that have been excavated and studied in different ways, providing
enough information to make a reliable estimate. Thus, the sites of La Fragua, La
Trecha, Arenillas and the Mesolithic level at La Chora (Gutiérrez-Zugasti 2006,
2009a, b) were the focus of an archaeomalacological study. The methodology used
to identify and quantify the malacological material is based on that developed by
Moreno (1994), with the modifications and extensions proposed in Gutiérrez-
Zugasti (2009a). The nomenclature of the species has followed the CLEMAM list
for the northern Atlantic (http://www.somali.asso.fr/clemam/index.clemam.html).
The shell-gathering zones were established according to the habitat preferences
of each species and their amounts in the deposits. In the case of P. vulgata, the
182
Fig. 8.1 Location of the study area

F.I. Gutiérrez-Zugasti
length/height ratio has been used to establish the zones, while the equations
given by Bailey and Craighead (2003) were used to determine the exposure.
The ages of this species were determined by using the method described by the
same authors, based on counting the annual growth rings.
In addition, the literature has been studied to acquire the data from other sites,
of which only El Perro (Moreno 1994), El Horno (Fano 2005; Vanhaeren et al.
2005), El Mirón (Straus and González-Morales 2005) and partially Cubío Redondo
(Aparicio 2001; Ruiz-Cobo and Smith 2003) and Cofresnedo (Ruiz-Cobo and
Smith 2003) have been studied with modern methods. For other sites, the informa-
tion is limited to the simple mention of the presence or absence of different species,
as occurs in the old levels at La Chora (Madariaga 1963; Yudego 1995), El Otero
(Madariaga 1966; Yudego 1995), El Valle (Breuil and Obermaier 1912; Obermaier
1925; García-Gelabert and Talavera 2004) and El Tarrerón (Apellániz 1971).
The information regarding the chronology of the sites can be seen in Table 8.1.
All calibrations in this paper were made using Calpal at 1s, CalCurve: CalPal2007_
HULU (Weninger and Jöris 2008; Weninger et al. 2008), except the older dates
from La Trecha (taken from shells), which were not calibrated because of the
current uncertainties about the reservoir effect on the Cantabrian coast.
In order to calculate the distance of the settlements from the coastline, first it
was necessary to reconstruct the curve of the rise in sea level in North Spain. This
has been achieved by using global data, taken at a planetary level (Fairbridge 1961;
Uriarte 2003) and regional data in relation with the French coast (Ters 1973). This
information has been complemented with data from Cantabrian Spain itself
(Cearreta and Murray 1996, 2000; Leorri and Cearreta 2004; Mary 1992; Salas
1995). Once the position of the coastline in each period had been determined
(Table 8.1, last column), the distance from the sites was calculated by Alejandro
García Moreno using ArcGis 9.2. The information on bathymetry came from
BACO application, developed by the Coastal and Oceanographic Engineering
Group of the University of Cantabria (Spain) and the Ministry of Environment
(Spanish Government).
Molluscan Exploitation During the Late Magdalenian

(15,600–13,400 cal BP)
The main evidence for the study of the Late Magdalenian in the area is provided by
the sites of La Fragua and El Perro, both of which are now located on the shoreline
(Fig. 8.2). However, the radiocarbon dates from both sites correspond to a moment
in the Late Magdalenian when the coast would have been situated a considerable
distance away from the sites (over 7–8 km away). Nonetheless, malacological
material is present in both deposits, although the exploitation of this kind of
resource was not systematic at this time (Table 8.2). The only molluscs gathered in
any quantity were P. vulgata in the case of La Fragua, and Patella sp. and Littorina
184
Table 8.1 Chronology of the sites included in the study and corresponding sea level
Site Level Lab Ref. Date RCYBP Date cal BP Material Method Source Sea level
La Trecha Cementado URU-0050 5,430 ± 70 6,200 ± 90 Carbonate C14 González-Morales et al. (2002) 1
La Trecha Cementado URU-0051 5,600 ± 310 6,410 ± 360 Charcoal C14 González-Morales et al. (2002) 1
Arenillas 0 GrN-19596 5,580 ± 80 6,380 ± 70 Charcoal C14 Bohígas and Muñoz (2002) 1
El Tarrerón III I-4030 5,780 ± 120 6,590 ± 130 Charcoal C14 Apellániz (1971) 1
Cubío Redondo 3–6 Beta-106049 5,780 ± 50 6,580 ± 60 Charcoal C14 AMS Ruiz-Cobo and Smith (2003) 1
La Trecha Cementado URU-0039 6,240 ± 100 Shell C14 González-Morales et al. (2002) −5
La Chora Conchero GrN-20961 6,360 ± 80 7,300 ± 90 Charcoal C14 Yudego (1995) −5
Cubío Redondo 3–6 Beta-106050 6,630 ± 50 7,520 ± 50 Bone C14 AMS Ruiz-Cobo and Smith (2003) −10
La Fragua 1sup GrN-20963 6,650 ± 120 7,540 ± 90 Charcoal C14 González-Morales (2000) −10
Cofresnedo V0 GrA-20146 6,845 ± 45 7,680 ± 50 Bone C14 AMS Ruiz-Cobo and Smith (2003) −10
La Fragua 1med GrN-20964 6,860 ± 60 7,710 ± 60 Charcoal C14 González-Morales (2000) −10
La Trecha 1 URU-0038 7,500 ± 70 Shell C14 González-Morales et al. (2002) −15
La Fragua 1inf GrN-20665 7,530 ± 70 8,320 ± 80 Charcoal C14 González-Morales (2000) −15
El Perro 1 GrN-18116 9,260 ± 110 10,450 ± 140 Charcoal C14 González-Morales and Díaz (1992) −45
La Fragua 3 GrN-20966 9,600 ± 140 10,930 ± 200 Charcoal C14 González-Morales (2000) −55
El Valle E1 GX-24639 10,120 ± 280 11,820 ± 480 Charcoal C14 García-Gelabert and Talavera (2004) −60
El Perro 2a/b GrN-18115 10,160 ± 110 11,790 ± 250 Charcoal C14 González-Morales and Díaz (1992) −60
El Valle III GX-23798 11,040 ± 150 12,960 ± 140 Charcoal C14 García-Gelabert and Talavera (2004) −65
El Valle III GX-23799 11,050 ± 150 12,970 ± 140 Charcoal C14 García-Gelabert and Talavera (2004) −65
El Valle II GX-24638 11,130 ± 170 13,040 ± 170 Charcoal C14 García-Gelabert and Talavera (2004) −65
El Horno 0 GX-26410 11,630 ± 170 13,520 ± 180 Bone C14 Fano (2005) −70
El Perro 3 GrN-20962 12,140 ± 180 14,260 ± 340 Charcoal C14 González-Morales and Díaz (1992) −75
La Fragua 4 GrN-29440 12,960 ± 50 15,530 ± 60 Bone C14 González-Morales (2000) −80
Fig. 8.2 Location of Late Magdalenian sites and sea level rise during the period (15,600–13,400
cal BP)
littorea at El Perro. The rest of the assemblages consists of a few bivalves of

Mytlilidae, Ostreidae and Cardiidae, and gastropods potentially for use as orna-
mentation, such as Littorina obtusata, Littorina saxatilis, Turritellidae and Nucella
lapillus. This pattern is usual in deposits of this period, with a significant presence
of species preferring a cool climate. The abundance of L. littorea and the presence of
Mytilus and Ostrea could be an indication of the exploitation of estuaries or very
sheltered shores, which at that time would be more accessible from the sites than
the more distant open shore. Nevertheless, the appearance of species like Osilinus
lineatus may reflect an exploitation of more exposed coastal areas, such as beaches
186
Table 8.2 Abundance of the main exploited species at Late Magdalenian sites

La Fragua 4 El Perro 2c El Horno 3 El Horno 2 El Horno 1 El Mirón 106-107 El Otero 3 El Otero 2 El Valle
MNI %MNI MNI %MNI MNI MNI MNI MNI MNI MNI MNI
Marine bivalves
Mytilus galloprovincialis
Mytilus sp. 1 0.2 45 4.5 1 1 P P
Ostrea edulis 3 0.3 P A
Ruditapes decussatus P
Scrobicularia plana P
Marine gastropods
Littorina littorea 1 0.2 261 26.3 P P P
Osilinus lineatus 28 2.8 P
Patella vulgata 269 62.7 P P A
Patella intermedia 1 0.2 P P
Patella rustica P
Patella ulyssiponensis P
Patella sp. 59 13.8 591 59.5
Land snails
Cepaea nemoralis 24 5.6 P
Total 429 100 994 100 2 11 14 3
Quantitative data: MNI and %MNI when possible
Qualitative data: A abundant; P present; S scarce
Table 8.3 Zonation and exposure data of Patella vulgata from La Fragua, La Trecha and Arenillas
Zonation (L/H) Exposure
Site and level High shore (%) Low shore (%) Exposed coast (%) Sheltered coast (%)
La Fragua – 4 52.3 47.7 47 53
La Fragua – 1 27.3 72.7 86 14
La Trecha – 1 14.9 85.1 82 18
Arenillas – 0 15.2 84.8 86.6 13.4
and cliffs, albeit in a very limited way. On the other hand, P. vulgata specimens at
La Fragua were gathered in exposed and sheltered zones in equal proportion, and
in both high and low zones (Table 8.3). Therefore, the finds of marine molluscs at
these sites are probably a result of sporadic occupations as part of the coast-inland
mobility of the human groups, and these sites were not used for the exploitation of
marine resources because of their distance from the coast. In relation with that, it is
likely that other settlements were used to exploit molluscs, located nearer to the
coast at that time and now submerged under the sea.
Towards the interior of the River Asón drainage basin, two sites are of great
interest, although the results obtained from them should be considered with
certain precaution. These are the caves of La Chora and El Otero (Madariaga
1963, 1966), located in the Aras Valley (19–20 km from the coastline during the
Late Magdalenian). Their stratigraphy suggests the human occupation took
place at the end of the Magdalenian, as well as at other times. The difficulty in
ascribing the malacological material to each strata with any degree of certainty
was made clear in the revisions carried out by various researchers (González-
Sainz 1989; Yudego 1995). This does not allow proposing a totally reliable
model of exploitation. However, the available data seems to indicate the exploita-
tion of estuaries, with a notable presence of P. vulgata, L. littorea and Ostrea
edulis, among other species. This needs to be corroborated by more reliable data
obtained by new excavations.
Finally, even further inland in the Asón valley, other sites can be chronologically
situated in the Late Magdalenian. One of them is El Valle Cave (20–21 km from the
coastline), with evidence of molluscan exploitation in that period. The most precise
information on this aspect comes from old excavations (Breuil and Obermaier
1912; Obermaier 1925) and amounts to only a mention of the presence of abundant
land snails together with a few marine molluscs, among which they cite P. vulgata,
L. littorea and Trivia arctica. It is important to emphasise the significance of the
exploitation of terrestrial molluscs, which is first seen at this time and which
acquires greater importance in later periods. On the other hand, El Horno Cave
(27 km) presents at least two levels belonging to this period where marine molluscs
of an ornamental nature and not for subsistence were found, such as Turritella
sp., Trivia sp., N. lapillus, L. obtusata and Nassarius incrassatus (Fano 2005;
Vanhaeren et al. 2005). In the same way, only a few ornamental shells were found
at El Mirón (27 km) (Straus and González-Morales 2005).
Molluscan Exploitation During the Azilian (13,400–10,800 cal BP)
To study the Azilian, it is possible to draw on information from the same sites listed
above, and once again, the only totally reliable results come from El Perro and La
Fragua, located 7 and 5.5 km from the coastline, respectively (Fig. 8.3). It should be
pointed out that the date from La Fragua is situated on the Azilian-Mesolithic
boundary in Cantabrian Spain. However, this level has been included as Azilian, as
both the date and the composition of the level (with predominance of L. littorea) are
reasonable matches for this period.
Fig. 8.3 Location of Azilian sites and sea level rise during the period (13,400–10,800 cal BP)
Table 8.4 Abundance of the main exploited species at Azilian sites

La Fragua 3 El Perro 2a/b El Otero 1 El Valle
MNI %MNI MNI %MNI MNI MNI
Marine bivalves
Mytilus galloprovincialis 29 0.3 573 3.9
Mytilus sp. P P
Ostrea edulis 1 0.1 73 0.5 A
Ruditapes decussatus 1 0.1 S
Scrobicularia plana S
Marine gastropods
Littorina littorea 21 0.2 7,683 52.8
Osilinus lineatus 1 0.1 114 0.8 P
Patella vulgata 43 0.4 P P
Patella intermedia 22 0.2 P
Patella rustica P
Patella ulyssiponensis 4 0.1
Patella sp. 56 0.5 5,186 35.7
Land snails
Cepaea nemoralis 10,387 93.9 A
Total 11,057 100 14,541 100
The most significant point is the huge difference in the exploitation carried out
at the two sites (Table 8.4). On the one hand, the molluscan exploitation at El Perro
continues in the same line as that followed in the previous period, although the
exploitation of marine molluscs now becomes more intense, and L. littorea and
Patella sp. together represent about 88% of the MNI of the level. On the other, at
La Fragua, the exploitation was focused almost exclusively on the land snail
Cepaea nemoralis, which makes up nearly 94% of the MNI of the shell midden,
which has very few marine molluscs. In both cases, the pattern of marine molluscan
exploitation is quite similar, and almost the same species were gathered, at least in
the case of the main species. This pattern concurs with the rather cool climatic
conditions that were still prevalent at the end of Younger Dryas and the start of
the Pre-Boreal, and is shown by the abundance of L. littorea and N. lapillus. In the
same way, the area where the molluscs were gathered is quite similar to the previous
period, i.e. exploitation of estuaries or sheltered shores (O. edulis, Mytilus gallopro-
vincialis, L. littorea) together with the exploitation of beaches and more exposed
zones. Regarding the exploitation of the intertidal zones, the rocky high and middle
shores were still being used, at the same time as a slight increase in the exploitation
of the muddy low tidal zone can be detected (Gutiérrez-Zugasti 2009a). At La
Fragua, however, land snails were probably gathered in the vicinity of the cave. The
difference in the use of these two sites, located so near to each other, is probably
related to their different accessibility and functionality. El Perro is a wide rock-shelter,
which could hold a large group, with good access from the valley and probably
from the estuary, whereas the characteristics and location of La Fragua were not so
favourable at that time for the prolonged exploitation of both estuary and exposed
coastal resources. Consequently, the site was used for a more sporadic exploitation
of land snails, an occasional mammal, and a few marine molluscs.
At the sites located inland, like La Chora and El Otero (17–19 km from the
coastline), it seems that the exploitation of molluscs followed a similar pattern to
that at El Perro, with presence of the same species, although O. edulis acquired
more importance. This is understandable taking into account the situation of these
sites, from where the estuary could be exploited with greater ease and less effort
than the open coast. By contrast, further inland (17–20 km from the coastline), at
El Valle, the exploitation pattern resembles that at La Fragua, as it seems that
C. nemoralis land snails were gathered in abundance, together with a few marine
molluscs, such as Mytilus edulis and P. vulgata. However, at El Horno, although
the site was probably occupied during the Azilian, as was confirmed by the dates
obtained in Level 0, there is no reliable information regarding the chronological
assignation of the molluscs found, given the mixed nature of the level, which
contains material both of Magdalenian appearance and from other periods in
recent prehistory (Fano 2005).
Molluscan Exploitation During the Mesolithic (10,800–6,800 cal BP)
The most complete archaeological records available are dated to the Mesolithic, as
the sites of this period have been less affected by the changes in sea level that took
place in the Early Holocene. Hence, as well as El Perro, La Fragua and La Chora
in the lower Asón valley, there are sites in the middle part of the valley, like Cubío
Redondo and Cofresnedo. The lower Agüera valley has the site of La Trecha.
Consequently, the different sites cover much of the chronological sequence for the
Mesolithic in Cantabrian Spain (Fig. 8.4).
All these sites can be divided into two types, according to the type of shell
accumulation they contain. Thus, whereas at El Perro (4–6 km from the coastline),
La Fragua (1–2 km), La Chora (5–10 km) and La Trecha (0–2 km), the exploitation
of coastal resources was important; the other sites, located further inland, such as
Cubío Redondo (18 km) and Cofresnedo (16–17 km), contain relatively fewer
marine molluscs. At El Mirón (22 km) there are Mesolithic layers but without
evidence of molluscs. Therefore, at this time, a double pattern can be distinguished,
depending on the situation of the settlements, either coastal or inland. The data pre-
sented here supports the traditional idea that during the Mesolithic in Cantabrian
Spain, the interior was occupied less intensively than in earlier periods, as is shown
by the fewer sites of this type that have been discovered and by the lesser importance
of their occupations (González-Morales et al. 1999; Ruiz-Cobo et al. 2007; Straus
and Clark 1986). In consequence, the human groups preferred to occupy and exploit
the coastal fringe rather than inland areas, which agrees with the restriction in the
mobility of human groups associated with the strategy of diversifying resources.
Fig. 8.4 Location of Mesolithic sites and sea level rise during the period (10,800–6,800 cal BP)
At this time, the groups occupying the coastal settlements gathered four main
species: M. galloprovincialis, Patella sp., O. lineatus and O. edulis (Table 8.5). At
first, as can be seen at El Perro, mussels are the species gathered most frequently.
However, at La Fragua and La Trecha, Patella species were predominant in the
preferences of the gatherers during the Mesolithic. The importance of Patella in
the shell middens is clear, except at La Chora, where the main species are O. edulis
and M. galloprovincialis, as a consequence of the prime location of the site for the
exploitation of the estuary. The presence of large quantities of limpets like Patella
intermedia and Patella ulyssiponensis, whose habitats are situated in the rocky
shores of the middle and lower intertidal zones respectively, shows that more
192
Table 8.5 Abundance of the main exploited species at Mesolithic sites

El Perro 1 La Fragua 1 La Chora La Trecha 1 Cofresnedo V0 Cubío Redondo 3–6
MNI %MNI MNI %MNI MNI %MNI MNI %MNI MNI MNI
Marine bivalves
Mytilus galloprovincialis 7,274 47.0 1,028 8.4 28 13.3 186 10.9 1
Mytilus sp. 1
Ostrea edulis 770 5.0 58 0.5 27 12.8 87 5.1
Ruditapes decussatus 37 0.3 2 0.9 14 0.8
Scrobicularia plana 1 0.0 72 34.1 7 0.4 1
Marine gastropods
Littorina littorea 55 0.4 1 0.1
Osilinus lineatus 1,907 12.3 542 4.4 245 14.4
Patella vulgata 875 7.1 176 10.3
Patella intermedia 5,473 44.5 17 8.1 388 22.8
Patella rustica
Patella ulyssiponensis 1,302 10.6 1 0.5 85 5.0
Patella sp. 4,931 31.8 2,505 20.4 4 1.9 307 18.0
Land snails
Cepaea nemoralis 214 1.7 30 14.2 24 1.4 P A
Total 15,484 100 12,290 100 211 100 1705 100
exposed areas are being exploited than in earlier periods, with the added effort that
this involves. In the same way, the biometric analysis of P. vulgata shows that this
species was being collected on the exposed and lower shore (Table 8.2). At the
same time, the presence of species from sandy or muddy substrates suggests gather-
ing in estuarine areas.
Regarding the sites in the middle and upper valleys, they all contain few marine
molluscs, due to their distance from the coast, which limits movements towards the
coast and its exploitation. The few marine species that appear in the deposits may
have been brought when the group travelled inland from the coast, or less probably,
during sporadic visits to the coast from the sites. However, at Cubío Redondo
(Aparicio 2001), the land snail C. nemoralis was consumed in large quantities, in a
similar way to the consumption of the same species noted in Level 3 (Azilian) at
La Fragua, and in the Late Magdalenian and Azilian levels at El Valle. It is neces-
sary to point out that this type of strategy is found at numerous sites, especially
inland ones, in the eastern sector of Cantabria (Ruiz-Cobo et al. 1999, 2007),
although the absence of detailed studies for most sites does not allow a reliable
chronological or cultural attribution, or any other assessment of the sites. In any
case, the sites that have been researched (Aparicio 2001; Gutiérrez-Zugasti 2006,
2009; Ruiz-Cobo and Smith 2003) provide enough information to propose that this
type of strategy was adopted sporadically.
Molluscan Exploitation During the Mesolithic–Neolithic

Transition (6,800–6,300 cal BP)
Little information is currently available about the Neolithisation processes in

Cantabrian Spain. However, if the available data is considered, some changes can
be seen, mainly in subsistence and technology, after 6,800 cal BP (Arias and Fano
2003). Until approximately 6,300 cal BP, these changes are characterised mainly by
the presence of pottery and some evidence of agriculture and pastoralism. This does
not imply the existence of a break with the economic activities of earlier periods,
as at most sites evidence has been found of both hunting and gathering, and the new
productive activities of the Neolithic. After 6,300 cal BP, the main novelty is the
introduction of megalithic architecture in the region.
In connection with the use of coastal resources, the exploitation of molluscs
during the transition from the Mesolithic to the Neolithic, in the Asón and Agüera
valleys, maintains a very similar pattern than that seen in the Mesolithic (Fig. 8.5).
Thus, coastal sites such as Arenillas (0–1 km) and La Trecha (0–1 km) contain large
amounts of molluscs, with a predominance of species of the Patella genus and
O. lineatus, and to a lesser extent, M. galloprovincialis and O. edulis (Table 8.6).
Among inland sites, these same species are found, as at El Tarrerón (17 km),
although in smaller quantities, whereas at Cubío Redondo (14 km) land snails con-
tinue to be exploited, as in the Mesolithic. In the same way, the zones where the
Fig. 8.5 Location of sites and sea level during the Mesolithic–Neolithic transition (6,800–6,300
cal BP)
molluscs were gathered are the same ones used in the Mesolithic, with a predomi-
nance of the exploitation of exposed, low shore, rocky zones (Table 8.2). Although
the archaeological record and the available data are not abundant, a similar use to the
one documented in the previous period can be observed, with an exploitation of
the same species and a similar settlement pattern. In addition, none of these sites
show evidence of agriculture or pastoralism, and the only new technological feature
is the appearance of some pottery sherds at Arenillas.
Table 8.6 Abundance of the main exploited species at the Mesolithic–Neolithic

transition sites
Arenillas El Tarrerón III
MNI %MNI MNI
Marine bivalves
Mytilus galloprovincialis 1,627 15.3
Mytilus sp. P
Ostrea edulis 755 7.1 P
Ruditapes decussatus 77 0.7
Scrobicularia plana 43 0.4
Marine gastropods
Littorina littorea
Osilinus lineatus 712 6.7 P
Patella vulgata 1,384 13.0 P
Patella intermedia 2,802 26.3
Patella rustica
Patella ulyssiponensis 611 5.7
Patella sp. 1,042 9.8
Land snails
Cepaea nemoralis 302 2.8
Total 10,457 100
Quantitative data: MNI and %MNI when possible Qualitative data: A abundant;
P present; S scarce
Discussion
Throughout the whole period, the qualitative composition of the shell middens has
remained practically stable, that is to say, that the same species have been exploited
at nearly all times. Hence, in general Patella has been the most frequently gathered
genus, and is usually the most abundant in the deposits. However, at certain times,
larger amounts of other species have accumulated, as occurs during the Azilian
at La Fragua (C. nemoralis) and El Perro (L. littorea), and during the Mesolithic at
La Chora (M. galloprovincialis and O. edulis) and El Perro (M. galloprovincialis).
These changes could be the consequence of different reasons. First, the existence
of settlements further from the coastline, or the poor accessibility of the site in the
case of the Azilian level at La Fragua, would have favoured the gathering of land
snails, whereas the greater ease of access to an estuary would have resulted in the
exploitation of species like L. littorea, M. galloprovincialis or O. edulis during the
Azilian and Mesolithic at the sites of El Perro and La Chora. All the species
mentioned, together with O. lineatus, are the basis of gathering strategies, during
the transition from the Pleistocene to the Holocene, for human groups in eastern
Cantabria. Even so, in the light of the available evidence, Patella sp. can be consid-
ered as the most important malacological resource throughout the period of study.
It is worth emphasising that in this period, a notable change occurred in mollusc

populations due to the improvement in climatic conditions. In the early twentieth
century, Count of the Vega del Sella (1916) observed the existence of differences in
the composition of Palaeolithic and Mesolithic shell middens in Cantabrian Spain,
and attributed them to a warmer climate during the Holocene. The clearest example
of this change is the predominance of the cool-climate adapted species L. littorea
in the Palaeolithic and even Azilian middens, and the greater abundance of the spe-
cies of milder environments O. lineatus during the Mesolithic. Vega del Sella and
later researchers have approached this issue as if a total biological replacement took
place and both species could be considered fossil-guides. However, in recent years,
both species have been found together at a number of sites (Gutiérrez-Zugasti 2006,
2009a; Moreno 1994), which suggest that although the substitution may have been
rapid, it was more gradual than previously thought, and this reduces their value as
chronological indicators. Even so, a clear trend exists towards a decrease in the num-
bers of L. littorea parallel to a rise in the amounts of O. lineatus, during the course
of the Holocene. In the same way, other warmth-adapted species have increased their
presence in the middens with the arrival of milder conditions, causing slight changes
in the qualitative composition of the shell middens. This is the case of P. inter-
media, which becomes the most commonly gathered species of the Patella genus
during the Mesolithic, in place of P. vulgata, which usually prefers cooler climates
and predominates in the Late Magdalenian and Azilian. Despite this, at certain sites,
P. vulgata continues to appear in considerable quantities in the Mesolithic.
Regarding the areas where the molluscs were gathered, if the natural habitats of
the different species are taken into account, it is possible to see a slight increase in
the exploitation of the lower, more exposed and rocky intertidal zones. This is
reflected in the abundant gathering of species like P. intermedia and P. ulyssipon-
ensis, especially during the Mesolithic and the Early Neolithic. However, the more
sheltered high and middle zones continue to be exploited too. In the same way, in
time, an increase takes place in the presence of species which live on sandy or
muddy substrates (Ruditapes decussatus, Solen marginatus, Scrobicularia plana),
which shows an increase in the exploitation of estuarine areas during the Mesolithic
and Early Neolithic, probably due to the formation of Holocene estuaries at this
time. However, their presence continues to be marginal in comparison with species
from rocky shores, which are undoubtedly the basis of molluscan exploitation
throughout the whole period.
Therefore, both the larger accumulations of molluscs and the exploitation of
lower and more exposed zones seem to indicate an intensification in the exploitation
of these resources. Unfortunately, the biometric data are not sufficient to be able to
draw any definitive conclusions about this issue. However, according to the data
from La Fragua, La Trecha and Arenillas, a decrease in size can be seen between the
Late Magdalenian and the Mesolithic, corroborated by the analysis of the age distri-
butions (Table 8.7). Thus, these data support Straus and Clark’s interpretation that
the decrease in size was due to greater anthropic pressure on the resources and not
to climate change. Taking into account the biometric data and age distributions in
Bailey and Craighead for La Riera, it can be seen not only that the sample sizes are
Table 8.7 Size and age evolution of Patella vulgata
Size Age
Patella vulgata Patella intermedia P. vulgata P. intermedia
Site Level Period n Length n Length n Length n Length
Arenillas 0 Meso–Neo 808 27.4 1398 23.5 106 3.9 106 3.5
La Trecha 1 Mesolithic 87 27.4 180 23.1 102 3.7 107 3.3
La Fragua 1 Mesolithic 523 27.8 2,678 25.5 118 3.6 113 3.3
La Riera 29 Mesolithic 5 42.4 34 25.1 34 4.0
La Riera 28 Azilian 107 31.8 5 28.2 36 4.4 5 4.4
La Riera 27 Azilian 183 37.7 23 30.9 40 5.2 23 4.6
La Riera 26 Late Magdalenian 126 33.2 29 4.5
La Fragua 4 Late Magdalenian 197 33.4 112 4.3
8 Changes in Molluscan Exploitation Patterns During the Late Pleistocene
197
rather small, which is a problem for interpretation, but also that in the case of P.
vulgata, the sizes of the individuals during part of the Late Magdalenian and the
Azilian are slightly smaller than in nearly all the earlier periods, whereas in the case
of P. intermedia, a steady reduction is seen between the Late Magdalenian and the
Mesolithic, both in size and in age. Therefore, the actual data support the existence
of an intensification process in the exploitation of molluscs over time, and that this
process occurred in the eastern part of the region as well as in the west.
Finally, some differences have been noted in settlement patterns and the function-
ality of sites, in relation with the changes that took place in the position of the coast-
line as a result of the rising sea level. Thus, sites such as La Fragua, El Perro, La
Chora, El Otero, El Valle and El Horno were situated at a certain distance from the
coast in the Late Magdalenian, and were not appropriate for the exploitation of
marine resources. This explains the small number of molluscs in their deposits in this
period, when the sites were used for economic strategies more suited to inland areas.
However, during the Azilian, some of these sites, e.g. El Perro, La Chora or El Otero,
because of their increasing proximity to the shoreline, were in a relatively good posi-
tion to exploit the estuary, whereas others like La Fragua, despite being very near to
El Perro, cannot have been chosen for this function because it has poorer access and
is less inhabitable, except on rare occasions (for gathering land snails). During the
Mesolithic, when the territory took on a form very similar to its present one, El Perro,
La Fragua and La Chora, in the lower Asón valley and La Trecha in the lower Agüera
valley, were used for a quite intense exploitation of coastal resources. At the same
time, other sites located inland, in the Asón valley and distant from the coast, e.g.
Cubío Redondo and Cofresnedo, have few remains of marine molluscs. These can be
considered a result of occasional or seasonal coast-interior mobility and not a system-
atic exploitation of littoral resources. This same pattern can be seen in the transition
between the Mesolithic and the Neolithic, with a wide exploitation of malacological
resources at coastal sites, like La Trecha and Arenillas, and a much less important
one at inland settlements, like El Tarrerón and Cubío Redondo, although at the latter
site, a significant use was made of land snails, as in the Mesolithic.
Conclusions
Although the main species of the gathering strategies appear in the malacological
assemblages throughout the period, some changes have occurred in the qualitative
composition of these assemblages, due to the increase in the importance of warmth-
adapted species (P. intermedia, O. lineatus) at the expense of those preferring cooler
conditions (P. vulgata, L. littorea), as a result of the rising temperatures, mainly in
the Mesolithic and Early Neolithic. In the same way, the synchronic inter-site
differences in mollusc exploitation patterns are due to their different character-
istics as regarding accessibility and/or functionality. In this respect, several changes
have taken place in the location (coast-inland) and functionality (inland or coastal
exploitation/open coast or estuary exploitation) of the studied sites, in close rela-
tionship to the sea level rise. Thus, settlements that were used in the Late
Magdalenian to exploit inland areas, as they were then located far from the coast,
are used during the Mesolithic to exploit coastal resources, since the rise in sea level
had brought them into an advantageous position to exploit this biotope.
In the light of the available information, a relative increase in the occupation of
coastal areas and in the exploitation of molluscs can be noted throughout the
chronological sequence being studied. This is shown by the distribution of sites and
the steady increase in the general amounts of molluscs recovered from the deposits.
Thus, at least during the Azilian, molluscan exploitation, of both marine and land
species, was carried out with an intensity similar to that of the Mesolithic, as can
be seen at sites like El Perro and La Fragua. Equally, an increase has also been
identified in the exploitation of sandy and muddy zones of estuaries, and especially
of lower intertidal areas of open, rocky shores, and this can be regarded as indicat-
ing intensification. Finally, the biometric and age distributions data for P. vulgata
suggest a decrease in both cases, between the Late Magdalenian and the Mesolithic,
reflecting an intense exploitation of these resources. Therefore, the data indicate the
existence of an intensification process in the exploitation of molluscs which began
at least in the Azilian.
Acknowledgements I would like to thank the University of Cantabria for funding this research
and Alejandro García Moreno and M.R. González-Morales for his help.
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Chapter 9
Paleolithic Landscapes and Seascapes
of the West Coast of Portugal
Jonathan A. Haws, Caroline L. Funk, Michael M. Benedetti, Nuno F. Bicho,

J. Michael Daniels, Thomas A. Minckley, Rhawn F. Denniston,
Marjeta Jeraj, Juan F. Gibaja, Bryan S. Hockett, and Steven L. Forman
Introduction
The antiquity of coastal adaptations has gained renewed attention in the last several
years as archaeologists have recognized that coasts have long been important foci
of human settlement (Bailey 2004; Bailey and Milner 2003; Erlandson and
Fitzpatrick 2006; Fa 2008; Price 1995; Sauer 1962; Westley and Dix 2006).
As Bailey and Milner (2003) pointed out,
… coastlines have been a primary focus for human settlement, population growth and
dispersal from the earliest periods of prehistory, dynamic zones of cultural interaction and
social change, and that they should not be viewed as marginal zones or barriers but as
gateways to human movement, contact and cultural innovation (p.2).
Coastal zones are ecotones where marine, estuarine, and terrestrial habitats converge
to produce some of the ecologically richest places on the planet. The shore offers
many easily gathered food options including molluscs, crustaceans, echinoderms,
stranded marine mammals, and even fish and birds. Estuaries contain abundant
communities of edible shellfish and plants. The moderating influence of the ocean
provides a more equable climate for many plants and animals, including humans.
During the Pleistocene, coasts offered refugia for plants and animals when harsher
climatic conditions prevailed. Pleistocene coasts were as dynamic and productive as
they are today and certainly attracted foragers throughout the Paleolithic.
In recent research, the timing of coastal settlement and resource exploitation has
become intimately linked to the emergence of modern human behavior, especially
regarding social interaction, diet, and physiology. So far, the earliest evidence is
associated with early modern humans in South Africa, perhaps as early as 160,000
years ago (Henshilwood et al. 2001; Marean et al. 2007; Parkington et al. 2004).
This is manifested in both subsistence residues and the production of shell beads
J.A. Haws (*)
Department of Anthropology, University of Louisville, Louisville, KY 40292, USA
204 J.A. Haws et al.
for personal adornment (Henshilwood et al. 2004; d’Errico et al. 2005). Coastal
resources may have also played a critical role in the development and expansion
of the human brain by providing long-chain polyunsaturated fatty acids, specifi-
cally docosahexaenoic acid (DHA) (Broadhurst et al. 1998, 2002; Crawford et al.
1999; Cunnane et al. 1993; Cunnane 2000; Eaton et al. 1998; Parkington 2001).
DHA is not produced in the human body and occurs naturally in aquatic plants and
animals. If coastal resources supplied this “brain-specific” nutrient at the time of
major relative brain size increase, evidence for coastal settlement and subsistence
should date to roughly 500,000 years ago with the appearance of archaic Homo
sapiens or H. heidelbergensis (Parkington 2001; Ruff et al. 1997).
In Europe, the importance of coasts to early humans has been difficult to ascer-
tain given the rarity of coastal Pleistocene sites. Despite this problem, the available
evidence shows that early humans occupied coastal zones. The Lower Paleolithic
site of Boxgrove is located in a coastal setting, but marine resource utilization by
H. heidelbergensis is not evident (Roberts and Parfitt 1999). In her taphonomic
appraisal of Terra Amata, Villa (1983) reported the recovery of burned Mytilus
shells that would appear to confirm their collection and consumption by humans.
At Grotte du Lazaret, shells from several species of marine gastropods, bivalves,
echinoderms, brachiopods, and bryozoans provide evidence for transport and use of
marine resources (de Lumley et al. 2004). A few coastal caves in Italy, Gibraltar,
and Portugal offer unequivocal evidence that Neanderthals consumed seafood
(Antunes 2000a, b; Stiner 1994; Stringer et al. 2008). Was this an occasional occur-
rence, or was coastal settlement a regular part of Neanderthal ecology? We know
that Neanderthals successfully adapted to rapid fluctuations in climate, at millen-
nial and centennial scales, throughout Marine Isotope Stages (MIS) 4 and 3. The
recent research on stable isotopes and trace elements and biophysical studies of
metabolic requirements suggest that Neanderthal ecological niches in much of
western and central Europe were similar to large carnivores: low population
density, highly mobile, focused on medium and large herbivores. This strategy
remained successful until anatomically modern humans arrived around 40,000
years ago. In the Mediterranean region, a flexible adaptive strategy to exploit
coastal ecosystems may have enabled a longer survival (Finlayson 2008; Hockett
and Haws 2005, 2009). Sites such as Figueira Brava, Gorham’s and Vanguard caves
show that Neanderthals in Iberia apparently enjoyed a greater diversity of large and
small terrestrial game, marine mammals, fish, shellfish, birds, and edible plants
than populations in western and central Europe (Antunes 2000a, b; Stringer et al.
2008). By 55,000 years ago, Neanderthals may have overexploited shellfish
communities in coastal Latium (Stiner 1994; Stiner et al. 2000).
Upper Paleolithic modern humans arrived in Europe with a coastal appreciation
demonstrated by the Aurignacian use of marine shells as personal adornments
(Kuhn et al. 2001). Coastal dietary adaptations are well documented by the stable
isotope analyses of the Gravettian burial “Il Principe” from Grimaldi Cave in Italy
(Pettitt et al. 2003). This individual apparently derived up to 25% of his diet from
the sea. Manne and Bicho (this volume) present further evidence of Gravettian
marine exploitation at Vale Boi in southern Portugal. Solutrean people in Cantabrian
9 Paleolithic Landscapes and Seascapes of the West Coast of Portugal 205
Spain heavily exploited marine shellfish as the limpet size diminution data from La
Riera show (Ortea 1986). Morales-Muñiz and Roselló-Izquierdo (2008) document
a broad range of marine resource use at Cueva de Nerja in southern Spain. Evidence
for coastal adaptations increases substantially by the end of the Pleistocene and
early Holocene as eustatic sea-level rise and isostatic change brought the shoreline
closer to modern positions (Bicho and Haws 2008). Thus, in Europe there is
evidence for at least 55,000 years of coastal resource use by humans.
In this chapter, we define the coastal zone of the Portuguese margin and present
a model for Paleolithic coastal settlement in Portugal in relation to variation in
ocean productivity and environmental change. We then discuss the archaeological
and geological evidence for Pleistocene coastal deposits in Portugal. In some
sections of the Portuguese coast, steep bathymetry and tectonic uplift have protected
Pleistocene coastal landscapes and Paleolithic cave and open-air sites. Sites that
would have been close to the sea during MIS 3 highstands and MIS 2 lowstands
contain evidence of marine resources. Figueira Brava was near a raised MIS 3
shoreline and has evidence for marine mammals, shellfish, and birds (Antunes
2000a). Vale Boi, in Algarve, contains evidence for marine exploitation during MIS 2
from the Gravettian to the Magdalenian deposits (Stiner 2003). The site is only
2 km inland today and was likely the same distance inland during the Pleistocene
(Bicho 2004). Recently discovered open-air archaeological deposits at Praia Rei
Cortiço and Mira Nascente in Estremadura demonstrate that Neanderthals regularly
occupied coastal wetlands during MIS 5 and 3. Here, we present details on these
locales and their implications for understanding Neanderthal behavior and the
antiquity of coastal adaptations in Europe.
Defining Coastal Zones
Westley and Dix (2006) highlight some key issues for conceptualizing the coastal
zone. Three important variables include distance to the tidal zone, extent of mari-
time influence on climate and environment, and human perception. The strictest
definition of a coastal zone would conservatively limit discussion to an area of a
few meters to hundreds of meters inland from the shore. Arguably, large estuaries
may extend many kilometers inland, and thus distance to shore may increase and
include substantially larger areas. The influence of oceanic conditions on terrestrial
climate and vegetation may extend hundreds of kilometers inland. This is certainly
the case for Iberia as the characteristic Mediterranean climate of warm, dry
summers and cool, wet winters is generated by the position of the Azores High and
the strength of the North Atlantic Oscillation.
Human perception of coastal zones is equally problematic as many “coastal”
peoples have territorial ranges that may extend hundreds of kilometers inland. Of
course, any coastal vs. inland distinction is an analytical concept created by archae-
ologists and probably does not reflect past peoples’ perception of space.
Archaeologists often rely on the distribution of shell middens and other marine
items as an indicator of coastal adaptations. This can seriously limit an appreciation

of the past, since shell middens reflect a specific type of coastal resource use and
their importance may be overrepresented by preservation/visibility biases.
Furthermore, shell middens are usually found within a few kilometers of the tidal
zone; thus, demarcating the areal extent of coastal adaptations based on the distri-
bution of shell middens in time and space reflects an extremely conservative
perspective (Bailey and Milner 2003).
The archaeological record for the Upper Paleolithic provides a basis for consid-
ering a more inclusive definition for a coastal zone. From at least the Upper
Paleolithic in Portugal, people transported coastal items to sites up to 40 km inland
(Haws 2003; Bicho 1994; Moreno-Garcia and Pimenta 2002; Zilhão 2000). The
Gravettian site of Lagar Velho, with cetacean remains, would have been 15–20 km
inland (Moreno-Garcia and Pimenta 2002). Lapa do Picareiro would have been
almost 40 km inland when marine fish and shellfish were brought to the site during
the Magdalenian (Bicho et al. 2006). Lapa do Suão, which is near the coast today
and contains marine fish and shellfish, would have been 25 km inland during its
Magdalenian occupation (Roche 1982). Preliminary chert sourcing of Upper
Paleolithic artifacts from sites in the Rio Maior valley also suggests coastal-inland
movement of people during the Upper Paleolithic (Shokler 2002).
Paleolithic people likely identified themselves as coastal during the Late
Pleistocene through their use of the seascape (sensu Bailey 2004). This human
seascape in Portugal incorporated the use of marine shells as personal ornamenta-
tion or objects of beauty, the consumption of seafood, and settlement in close
proximity to the shore.
Links Between Coastal Productivity and Intensity

of Human Settlement
In a global survey, Perlman (1980) observed that coastal adaptations strongly

correlated with coastal biomass production. The spatial and temporal variability
of coastal productivity has important implications for human groups with a coastal
focus (Price 1995). Variations in productivity would have required flexible adapta-
tions to ensure survival. In a recent overview, Erlandson and Fitzpatrick (2006)
reiterated these points and explicitly stated the need to “understand the regional
productivity of marine ecosystems for humans, along with detailed archaeological
research to test the linkages between marine productivity and the development
of coastal and maritime adaptations” (p.10). Coastal environments are complex,
and resource availability is not simply a function of climate. As Westley and Dix
(2006) point out, sea level, oceanographic conditions, and geomorphology each
play a role in determining the structure of coastal environments. Pleistocene climatic
instability caused rapid and large amplitude fluctuations in sea level that in turn led
to continuous changes in coastal environments.
During the Pleistocene, enhanced ocean circulation increased the productivity of

marine ecosystems and negatively impacted terrestrial resource availability along
the Iberian Margin (Pailler and Bard 2002; Thomson et al. 2000; Turner and
Hannon 1988; Turon et al. 2003). Pulses of intensive coastal upwelling off the west
coast of Portugal created rich, diverse marine ecosystems that would have offered
tremendous opportunities for human societies (Abrantes 2000; Bicho and Haws
2008; Haws 2003). Sea-level changes and geomorphic responses constantly altered
the morphology of the coast. These changes would have been especially pro-
nounced during MIS 3 when rapid, millennial-scale fluctuations in sea level of
25–30 m amplitude occurred (Rohling et al. 2008a; Siddall et al. 2003, 2008).
During lowstands, an extensive area of the continental shelf was exposed. Steepened
water table gradients would have increased groundwater flow and created coastal
springs and wetlands (Faure et al. 2002). Some suggest deltas were more common
features than estuaries (Schubel and Hirschberg 1978; Westley and Dix 2006).
During highstands, marine productivity was lower, but increased tidal ranges cre-
ated estuaries and extensive mudflats. The transitional phases of climatic instability
characterized by Heinrich and Dansgaard-Oeschger events would have meant con-
stant changes in climate, coastal productivity and sea level. Even within Heinrich
events, Naughton et al. (2009) have detected shifts from wet/cold to dry/cool
climates due to shifts in the Atlantic jet. These changes were likely witnessed
on human timescales (e.g., Larsson 2003).
Identifying and Characterizing the Pleistocene Landscape

and Seascape of the Portuguese Coast
Upwelling
Rich coastal environments occur along continental margins where the upwelling of
cold, deep water brings nutrients near the surface. Abundant fish, shellfish, marine
mammal and shorebird communities characterize upwelling zones and humans
often focus settlement along these areas to take advantage of the resources (Perlman
1980; Bailey and Parkington 1988). Hunter-gatherers of the recent past exploited
coastal resources near strong upwelling zones, and this can be traced back to
the Pleistocene (Perlman 1980; Erlandson 2001; Parkington 2001). Off Portugal,
a moderate summer upwelling of the Canary Current flowing north along the north-
west African coast creates a rich, diverse marine ecosystem (Fiuza 1983). During
the Pleistocene, the Polar Front moved south during cold events, and this enhanced
ocean circulation and intensified Trade Winds in the North Atlantic. Ocean produc-
tivity peaked during MIS 6, 4, and 2, as upwelling intensity increased by an order
of magnitude greater than the present (Abrantes 1991, 2000). Upwelling intensity
remained higher than the present during the climatic instability of MIS 3 but
roughly the same as today for MIS 5. For most of the Late Pleistocene, coastal
environments were highly productive, and the rich, diverse marine ecosystems
would have attracted human foragers.
Paleovegetation
In general, upwelling intensity positively correlates with terrestrial aridity, thus fur-
ther increasing the attractiveness of Pleistocene shores (Shi et al. 2000). Agreement
can be found between the phases of intensified winds and increased upwelling and
decreased temperatures and precipitation evident in the pollen records for cold peri-
ods (Combourieu Nebout et al. 2002). Pleistocene coastal vegetation in Portugal is
primarily known from pollen analyses of sediments from deep-sea cores off the
Iberian Margin. These cores contain pollen records from MIS 10 through the termi-
nal Pleistocene. Broad regional-scale models of paleovegetation are possible but
local-scale, fine-grained reconstructions are limited by the lack of corresponding
terrestrial pollen records (Roucoux et al. 2001, 2005, 2006; Sánchez-Goñi et al.
2000; 2002). The data from MD01-2443 off SW Portugal span the period between
MIS 10-6 (Roucoux et al. 2006). Peaks in pine and juniper are followed by rises in
deciduous oaks. Evergreen oaks, olive, hazel, and alder are visible during high arbo-
real phases. During the interstadials and glacials, Ericaceae spikes as arboreal pollen
decreases. The MIS 5 record from core MD95-2042 indicates warm, humid condi-
tions with a mix of Eurosiberian and Mediterranean species (Sánchez-Goñi et al.
1999). There is a continuous presence of pine and Ericaceae and relatively high
percentages of deciduous oak throughout the period. Mediterranean-type evergreen
oak and olive communities peak in 5e, 5c, and 5a. Steppic vegetation (Artemisia &
Ericaceae) indicates drier and cooler temperatures during the stadials. From MIS 5a,
there is a marked decline in deciduous oak forest and increase in steppic vegetation
with the onset of MIS 4 (Sanchez Goñi et al. 2005). The cores MD95-2042 and
Su81-18 show high percentages of arboreal vegetation in early MIS 4 followed by a
gradual and sustained decrease (Sanchez Goñi et al. 2008). The MIS 3 arboreal pol-
len frequency ranges between 5 and 25% with peaks and valleys roughly corre-
sponding to Heinrich and Dansgaard-Oeschger (D-O) events (Roucoux et al. 2001;
Sánchez-Goñi et al. 2002; 2008). During the cold events, steppic herbs and shrubs
dominated, while trees occurred in low percentages (Sánchez-Goñi et al. 2002).
Peaks in Mediterranean forest correspond to D-O warm phases throughout the MIS
5-2 sequence from core MD95-2042 and Su81-18 off Portugal (Fig. 9.1).
Off northern Portugal, cores MD99-2331 and MD03-2697 record similar climatic
and vegetation fluctuations, but the species composition reflects more temperate,
deciduous arboreal communities with lesser Mediterranean-type inputs (Sanchez
Goñi et al. 2008). Overall, arboreal pollen percentages for MIS 4, 3, and 2 are lower
in these cores.
Fig. 9.1 Late Quaternary paleoenvironmental records. (a) Greenland ice core (GRIP) oxygen-
isotope record plotted on the SFCP timescale of Shackleton et al. (2004). Greenland
Interstadials (GI) numbered according to Bond et al. (1997); Heinrich Events according to
Hemming (2004). (b) Eustatic sea-level reconstructions. Note poor agreement and large range
of possible highstand levels during MIS 3. Dashed line: Shackleton et al. (2000). Solid line:
Lea et al. (2002). Note possible relationship between Heinrich Events and sea-level rise during
MIS 3. (c) Pollen abundance trends during MIS 2-3 from ocean sediment cores off Portuguese
margin. Note rise in arboreal taxa between Heinrich Events, and rise in steppic taxa during
Heinrich Events. (d) Dated samples from previous work by the project team in northern
Estremadura. Note clustering of ages for three main raised beach complexes centered at
35,000, 41,000, and 62,000 BP and possible relationship between eolian/fluvial activity and
Heinrich Events
The only reported terrestrial pollen records come from a series of organic
deposits in the coastal cliffs at São Pedro de Muel and south of the Lagoa de Óbidos
(Diniz 2003). Firtion and Carvalho (1952) reported pollen from mud beds in the
cliffs at São Pedro de Muel. These contain evidence for a Pinus pinaster woodland
and Ericaceae heathland that includes Rhododendron. Among the Compositae
(Asteraceae) and Anacardiaceae, Carduus and Rhus were identified, respectively.
Both are endemic to the Mediterranean and occur on rocky limestone substrates
associated with maquis vegetation. Betula appears in the lower level, but not in the
upper ones. Corylus shows a decreasing abundance from the bottom to the top. Our
recent attempts to recover pollen from the mud layers failed to confirm these
species. Instead, mud layer 1 contained Poaceae, mud layer 2 had Picea, Tilia, and
Acer, and mud layer 3 had Poaceae, Plantago, and Pinus. OSL ages of 39,450 ±
2,980 cal BP and 46,660 ± 3,570 cal BP on sands bracketing Mud 4 suggest a cor-
relation with D-O events. The deposits have a similar age as Mira Nascente,
approximately 10 km south (Table 9.1, discussed below), and the species identified
in this layer are also found at Mira Nascente. The deposits south of the Lagoa de
Óbidos are radiocarbon-dated between 35 and 45,000 RCYBP but likely date to the
Last Interglacial. The pollen data remain unpublished, but available summaries
point to the presence of deciduous oak forests during the interstadials (Mateus and
Queiroz 1993). Diniz (2003) suggested that a humid heath comprised Maritime
pine, juniper, Ericaceae, and Calluna blanketed the coastal zone. The association of
hazel, birch evergreen oak, and olive pollen indicates nearby refugia for oak-scrub
Mediterranean taxa. Terrestrial gastropod frequencies from the cave, Lapa dos
Furos, suggest warm, humid oak woodland in the limestone massif at 34,580
+1,010/ −1,160 RCYBP (Callapez 1999).
Paleowater
As Sauer (1962:47) noted,

“(d)esert shores are not impoverished as is the adjacent land. If there were desert coasts,
and it is most likely that there were such, potable water could still be found. Ground water,
however slow and slight its movement by gravity, seeps out in places at the shore, at least
at low tide.”
In Portuguese Estremadura, sand mobilization and desert pavement formation

along the coast indicate general aridification of the region (Daveau 1980, 1993;
Zilhão 1987, 1990, 2000). Speleothem growth in Buraca Gloriosa ceased during
cold periods, suggesting decreased flow or lack of groundwater in the limestone
massif (Fig. 9.2). Faure et al. (2002) present a model for increased freshwater avail-
ability on exposed continental shelves during glacial sea-level lowstands. According
to their model, sea-level regression steepened the coastal water table gradient and
increased the hydrostatic head on inland aquifers. The released pressure from
emerged land led to increased groundwater flow to the coasts. The model, based on
Table 9.1 Radiometric dates for Mira Nascente and São Pedro de Muel
14
Site Level Sample Method Lab referencea C agea Calendar ageb
São Pedro de Muel SP2 Quartz grain OSL UIC-2069 35,530 ± 2785
14
SP3a Soil organic matter C Beta-234378 21,640 ± 100 25,814 ± 492
SP3b Quartz grain OSL UIC-2066 35,260 ± 2590
SP3d Quartz grain OSL UIC-2068 39,450 ± 2980
14
SP3e Soil organic matter C Beta-208226 27,070 ±230 31,801 ±174
SP3f Quartz grain OSL UIC-2067 46,660 ±3570
Mira Nascente MN2 Quartz grain OSL UIC-1875 36,035 ± 2750
Quartz grain OSL UIC-1863 33,905 ± 2690
MN3a Charcoal AMS 14C Beta-234375 37,540 ±600 42,175 ±461
MN3a Soil organic matter AMS 14C Beta-208223 17,180 ± 80 (20,628 ± 292)
MN3b Organic matter AMS 14C Beta-208224c 21,810 ± 160 (26,110 ± 499)
MN3b Quartz grain OSL UIC-1864 40,450 ± 2980
MN3c Charcoal AMS 14C Beta-234376 36,720 ± 270 41,717 ± 311
MN3c Charcoal AMS 14C Beta-208225 36,030 ± 710 40,744 ± 1,025
MN3c Quartz grain OSL UIC-1923 34,300 ± 2630
MN4 Quartz grain OSL UIC-1868 >110,050 ± 8460
MN5 Quartz grain OSL UIC-2065 150,920 ± 12,575
Praia Rei Cortiço PC2a Charcoal AMS 14C Beta-234638 3,970 ± 40 4,448 ± 56
PC2b Quartz grain OSL UIC-2399 15,060 ± 980
PC4 Quartz grain OSL UIC-2398 101,010 ± 7870
PC5b Charcoal AMS 14C UGAMS-03254 46,850 ± 250 (50,356 ± 1854)
9 Paleolithic Landscapes and Seascapes of the West Coast of Portugal
PC5c Charcoal AMS 14C Beta-234369 34,270 ± 230 (39,694 ± 840)

Charcoal AMS 14C UGAMS-03912 49,560 ± 310 (53,781 ± 2055)
Charcoal AMS 14C UGAMS-03913 >51,200 Outside range
Tree root Conventional 14C UGAMS-03255 >49,600 Outside range
OSL ages are given for either green or blue excitation after infrared excitation, and for infrared excitation alone
a
Beta: Beta Analytic, Inc., Miami FL. UGAMS: Center for Applied Isotope Studies, University of Georgia, Athens GA
b
Calibration curve: CalPal2007_HULU (Weninger and Jöris 2008)
c
Beta Analytic commented that the sample was too small for 13C/12C ratio measurement. However, a ratio including both natural and laboratory effects was measured during
211
the 14C detection to derive a Conventional Radiocarbon Age, suitable for applicable calendar calibration. The date should be treated as a minimum age
Fig. 9.2 U-Th dates from a speleothem from Buraca Gloriosa in Portuguese Estremadura plotted
against SPECMAP. Dates generally correlate growth with warm periods with the exception of
MIS 5e
observation of terrestrial lake basins, further suggests an increased desiccation of

inland terrestrial zones as groundwater flow increased near the shore. Perennial or
seasonal submarine springs characterize coastal karstic aquifers, and these would
have been exposed and flowing during sea-level lowstands (Fleury et al. 2007).
Thus, freshwater supplies in the karst region of Estremadura may have been
restricted in the interior and readily available near the shore. Evidence for Late
Pleistocene recharge of coastal aquifers is widespread in Europe (Edmunds et al.
2001). In northern Europe, ice sheets and permafrost precluded aquifer recharge
during cold events, but 14C and noble gas measures demonstrate recharge dating to
the Last Interglacial and during mild interstadials. In southern Europe, recharge of
coastal aquifers was continuous through the Pleistocene. Condessa de Melo et al.
(2001) found evidence for Late Pleistocene recharge of the Aveiro Cretaceous
coastal aquifer in Portugal.
Given these facts, it is likely that the western coast of Portugal was an extremely
attractive place for human settlement and subsistence during much of the Late
Pleistocene. Marine and estuarine resources would have been abundant, while the
terrestrial resources near the coast may have been relatively poor during colder and
drier periods. Freshwater would have been more plentiful near the coast due to
lowered sea level and shoreward shift of water tables. For central Portugal, the
most productive periods for marine resources would have been MIS 4, the Heinrich
events, and cold D-O stadials of MIS 3 and MIS 2. During the Late Pleistocene
cold events, coastal resources would have been critical to survival. Fish and marine
mammals would have been important sources of protein and fat. Shellfish would
have provided valuable carbohydrates in the absence of abundant plant carbohy-
drates. People may have focused settlement locations nearer the shore year round
even during the warmer phases of MIS 3 as ocean productivity would have been
relatively high. The intensified upwelling off Portugal would have created an
extraordinarily rich marine setting with abundant fish and shellfish, marine
mammals, and shorebirds. In all likelihood, Paleolithic people focused their settle-
ment along the coast to take advantage of this easily obtained food supply.
Sea Level, Neotectonism, and Paleolithic Coastal Settlement
One of the main challenges for recognizing Paleolithic coastal adaptations has been
recovering archaeological evidence of coastal settlement and resource use. Coasts
worldwide have experienced rapid submergence since the LGM, inundating and/or
destroying most archaeological evidence in the littoral zone. For the northern
Portuguese coast, Dias et al. (2000) place the LGM sea level at −130–140 m which
would mean that up to 20 km of continental shelf was exposed during Pleistocene
lowstands. All previous lowstands, including those of MIS 3 should have been
submerged or destroyed. However, remnants of Pleistocene coastal landforms are
known from many zones along the coast of Portugal, despite the fact that most of
the Pleistocene littoral zone has been lost or drowned due to sea level fluctuations
(Fig. 9.3). Many of these have long been thought to result from interglacial high-
stands that reached heights above the present sea level. Recent application of radio-
metric dating techniques demonstrates that many of these are much younger and
implies significant neotectonic uplift of Pleistocene coastal deposits.
Northern Portugal
In the north of Portugal, between the Rio Minho and Esposende, Meireles and
Texier (2000) have summarized and reinvestigated the occurrence of 10 marine
terraces thought to date between the Late Pliocene and Late Pleistocene (see also
Teixeira 1944). Lower and Middle Paleolithic artifacts, predominately quartzite,
have been found on these terraces (Meireles 1992). Viveen et al. (2009) observe
8 fluvial terraces of the Rio Minho that may correspond to the marine terraces. The
river terraces may date to the last 800 ka, but no radiometric dates have been pro-
duced on either the marine or river terrace group.
Between Espinho and Aveiro, Granja and colleagues have reported Late
Pleistocene coastal/shore deposits but no associated archaeology (Araújo 2002, 2005;
Araújo et al. 2003; Carvalho et al. 2006; Granja 1999; Granja and Carvalho 1995;
Granja et al. 1999; de Groot and Granja 1998; Thomas et al. 2008). At the Esmoriz
and Maceda beaches, Granja and Carvalho (1995) describe two lagoonal beds of
grayish silty sands and a paleoforest that comprise the Maceda Beach Formation.
The upper lagoonal bed dated to the last deglaciation and the older one dated to the
end of MIS 3. The paleoforest contains trunks of Pinus sylvestris dated between
Fig. 9.3 Map of Quaternary coastal deposits in Portugal. The map also includes sites mentioned
in the text
20,700 ± 30 RCYBP (24,704 ± 217 cal BP) and 29,000 ± 690 RCYBP (33,334 ± 665
cal BP). De Groot and Granja (1998) attribute the preservation of these Pleistocene
and overlying Holocene deposits to neotectonic activity along the NNW-SSE strike-slip
fault that controls the regional geologic framework. While the shore deposits have not
yielded archaeological materials, the adjacent Quaternary dunefield contains wind-
polished Paleolithic artifacts (Carvalho 1964, cited in Granja and Carvalho 1992).
Near Cape Mondego, Soares et al. (2007) report Pleistocene raised beaches from
the Farol Deposit. These deposits contain marine shells (Nucella lapillus, Patella
vulgata, Littorina littorea) indicative of cooler ocean temperatures during their
formation. The authors estimate the age as Early/Middle Pleistocene, but no archae-
ology has been reported from this locality.
Northern Estremadura
Coastal Pleistocene deposits in Portuguese Estremadura have yielded tantalizing

evidence in the past several decades. At Pedrógão, north of Leiria, Aubry et al.
(2005) excavated a Middle Paleolithic site exposed below the modern beach. While
the location may suggest a near-shore situation, no sedimentary details have been
published, and the authors did not offer a definitive explanation of the site context.
The recent Paleolithic Landscapes and Seascapes of Portuguese Estremadura
project recorded tectonically uplifted Pleistocene coastal sediments exposed in
eroding coastal bluffs between São Pedro de Muel and Peniche (Benedetti et al.
2009). The region is marked by steep bathymetry offshore, intensely faulted
Cenozoic sandstones and conglomerates along the coast, and Mesozoic limestone
bedrock with abundant caves and rockshelters within 10 km of the shore (Fig. 9.4).
Tectonic stresses including several active salt diapirs have produced a diverse
assemblage of rocky headlands, protected bays, fault-strike valleys, and uplifted
bedrock platforms along the coast. North of Nazaré, the study area is covered by
eolian dunes that extend 10–15 km inland. To the south, isolated dunes occupy gaps
in the coastal bluffs. A valley underlain by a salt diapir runs parallel to the shore-
line, serving as a sediment trap for coastal-draining rivers.
Until 2005, the Paleolithic archaeology of this region was almost completely
unknown due to a lack of previous field investigations. The 2005–2008 survey focused
on three areas encompassing the hydrographic basin of the Rio Alcoa, Rio Tornada and
the coastal margins north and south of Nazaré. The team surveyed the coastal cliffs
north of Nazaré where Pleistocene deposits are visible and mapped the location of
about 50 lithic scatters of which about 12 are definite Middle or Upper Paleolithic sites
on exposed or deflated Pleistocene surfaces along the coast (Fig. 9.5).
Pleistocene deposits between São Pedro de Muel and Vale Paredes (Mira
Nascente) sit on an uplifted wave-cut platform that is etched across dipping Jurassic
limestone beds exposed at elevations of 10–20 m in the coastal bluffs. The extent
of the uplifted platform coincides with the margins of an active salt diapir mapped
by Rasmussen et al. (1998) that intersects the coastline. Other raised beach sections
are found on similar wave-cut platforms along the flanks of the Caldas da Rainha
diapir, south of the Óbidos lagoon. Stratigraphic sections atop these platforms
contain a diversity of Pleistocene near-coastal deposits including foreshore, beach-
face, berm overwash, tidal flat, fluvial, and eolian facies (Benedetti et al. 2009).
The stratigraphic sections reveal significant sea-level variations and show
that tidal flats conducive to the formation of abundant shellfish beds existed in
Fig. 9.4 Map of 2005–2009 survey area in Portuguese Estremadura
back-barrier and estuarine environments during the Middle Paleolithic. However,

microfossil indicators of marine origin are generally not present in uplifted
coastal deposits along the Iberian Atlantic margin, as has been noted in previous
studies (Alonso and Pagés 2007; Ferreira 1991, 1995; Meireles and Texier 2000;
Zazo et al. 1999). As a result, depositional environments in the study area have
mainly been determined on the basis of sedimentary structures: hummocky
cross-stratification characterizes shoreface deposits, low-angle cross beds with
moderate sorting characterize beach deposits, and chevron bedded sands or
wave-rippled muds characterize tidal flat deposits. Additional evidence support-
ing a marine origin for these deposits includes pollen assemblages that are domi-
nated by coastal taxa(discussed below), particle size similarities with modern
intertidal deposits, and very low values of magnetic susceptibility (Benedetti
et al. 2009).
Fig. 9.5 Paleolithic sites found during the 2005–2008 survey. Dark lines indicate 10 m contours,
gray lines indicate streams
Uplift rates for the Estremadura coast, including tectonic and isostatic
components, can be constrained by comparing the modern elevation of raised
beaches with estimated eustatic sea level during the period when they were deposited.
Sea-level reconstructions for MIS 3 vary widely, but most agree on 3 or 4 high-
stands between 60-30 ka reaching levels of −20 to −80 m relative to modern. Given
the age of the deposits, uplift rates of about 1–2 mm year-1 have prevailed along
this coastline. Raised beaches dating to 35 ka and 42 ka are separated by the H4

event; another at 62 ka immediately precedes H6. These ages lend support to a
model of ice sheet purging and sea-level rise in phase with the timing of Heinrich
Events (Hemming 2004).
Evidence from inland sections suggests climate-driven landscape instability
beginning with H3 and continuing through the glacial maximum. Geomorphic
activity in this period includes dune transgression, fluvial aggradation, and colluvial
deposition. Luminescence ages imply that the sand mobilization began before
27 ka (Benedetti et al. 2009). Thick fills in coastal-draining river floodplains and a
diapiric valley paralleling the coast suggest very high rates of upland erosion
around the same time. Following deposition, the valley fills were reworked by
eolian activity and later trenched during the sea level lowstand of the glacial maxi-
mum (MIS 2). These findings highlight the magnitude of geomorphic response to
climatic instability during MIS 3, which was probably responsible for as much
landscape change as the extreme aridity during the LGM. They also provide
paleoenvironmental context for the newly discovered Paleolithic archaeological
sites in the region.
Mira Nascente
One of the most significant sites found during the survey, Mira Nascente, was tested
in 2005 and 2006 (Figs. 9.6 and 9.7). The site is located in a raised coastal deposit
about 10 km north of Nazaré. The entire MN 2-3-4 sequence outcrops continuously
in eroding coastal bluffs between Polvoeira and Vale Paredes. Testing at Mira
Fig. 9.6 Excavations at Mira Nascente

Fig. 9.7 Excavation plan of Mira Nascente
Nascente yielded a collection of flint tools, cores, and chipping debris in a discrete
stratigraphic level of foredune or tidal flat sands in close lateral association with
organic-rich lagoon and channel fill deposits dated 40–42 ka. The artifact-bearing
stratum at Mira Nascente is a medium-to-fine white sand layer that is capped by a
weak paleosol (unit MN3; Figs. 9.8 and 9.9). The sedimentology of the artifact-
bearing white sand (MN3) strongly suggests a tidal flat. At Polvoeira, this unit is
capped by ripple-laminated mud with root traces extending into the underlying
sand (PV3a-b). The abundance of pebbles increases toward the base of the unit, in
a fining-upward sequence that is consistent with tidal flow. The white sand lies
beneath a beachface deposit (MN2) of medium-to-coarse yellowish-brown sand
with cross-laminated beds dipping gently oceanward. These are overwash storm
deposits and cross-bedded beach sand facies related to a relative sea-level rise dated
33–35 ka. Beneath the white sand lies another beach deposit (MN4) of poorly
sorted coarse sand with localized flaser bedding and lenses of gravel. About
20 m south of the archaeological site at Mira Nascente, the white sand deposit
thickens and contains an organic-rich channel fill deposit (MN3c). Radiocarbon
and OSL results suggest that the channel was filled by younger beach sand during
the relative rise in sea level associated with unit MN2. The affiliation of
wide-shallow paleochannels with intertidal and beach deposits suggests that the
occupation at Mira Nascente took place near the shore where a small stream
emptied into the sea.
Fig. 9.8 Stratigraphic profiles for Polvoeira and Mira Nascente
Fig. 9.9 Stratigraphic profile of artifact-bearing white sand layer and nearby channel fill at
Mira Nascente
The dating of Mira Nascente places the occupation just prior to H4, which is
dated to around 38,5–39 ka off Portugal (Hemming 2004; Vautravers and Shackleton
2006). OSL ages of 33–35 ka for the upper beach sand (MN2, PV2) and 40–42 ka
for the artifact-bearing white sand (MN3) agree with the cultural chronology
(Table 9.1). Radiocarbon dates provide further support for the OSL ages. Two dates
on charcoal agree with the OSL ages on unit MN3: one from the paleosol at the top
of unit MN3 (42,624 ±544 cal BP) and the other from the nearby channel fill
deposit (41,280 ±656 cal BP). These ages firmly date the white sand layer, and thus
the occupation, at 40,000–42,000 cal BP.
Table 9.2 Pollen grains identified from an organic-rich channel fill within the
white sand layer at Mira Nascente
Taxon No. of pollen grains
Ericaceae, (Calluna or Erica) 60
Poaceae 17
Cistaceae, (Tuberaria guttata) 11
Asteraceae, Anthemis (chamomile) type 2
Plantago 1
Pinus 5
Quercus 2
Acer 1
Alnus cf. glutinosa 1
Table 9.3 Lithic artifacts from Mira Nascente

Chert Quartz Quartzite Total
Flakes 61 5 66a
Flake fragments 15 1 1 17
Blades 6 6
Bladelets 3 1 4
Fragments 1 1 2
Chips 281 44 3 328
Cores 4 1 5
Retouched tools 1 1
Core trimming flakes 2 2
Hammerstone 1 1
Total 374 52 6 432
a
There are a total of 5 cortical and 6 partially cortical flakes
The pollen spectrum recovered from the organic channel fill at Mira Nascente
(MN3c) reflects coastal heath vegetation with some Mediterranean tree stands in the
vicinity (Table 9.2). Species such as Tuberaria guttata (rockrose; native to western
and southern Europe) are indicators for dry, rocky sites close to the sea. They prefer
bare patches with a sparse cover of grasses. In the Channel Islands (UK), they are
surrounded by peaty areas with Calluna vulgaris and Erica cinerea (Proctor 1960).
The context of these artifacts and the extraordinary condition of the flake edges
suggest a very well-preserved occupation where spatially organized activities took
place. The majority of the 432 stone artifacts recovered from the primary locality
were made on reddish-brown chert that was transported to the site from primary and
secondary sources that exist within 10 km of the site. These sources derive from
Cretaceous limestone containing various colors. The reddish brown chert found at
Mira Nascente appears as nodules or pebbles with a thin cortex similar to ones
found in the immediate uplands near Cós, about 10 km southeast.
Most of the lithics are reduction debris resulting from flake manufacture. There
are only five cores, of which three are of centripetal Levallois types (Table 9.3;
Fig. 9.10 Recurrent centripetal cores from Mira Nascente
Fig. 9.10). The excavation also recovered several Levallois flakes and points
(Fig. 9.11). The morphological attributes and the class distribution clearly indi-
cates that cores were brought to the site in a semiprepared form – the number of
cortical or semicortical flakes is very low, as is the number of cortical platforms.
Also, the presence of a few core trimming flakes and the very high number of
chips suggest that core maintenance took place at Mira Nascente, probably to
renew the flaking surface to obtain recurrent flakes and, thus, economize the use
of chert. Retouched tools are virtually absent at the site with the exception of a
small denticulate.
A total of 56 flakes have been refitted to one another or to specific cores. The
refits link artifacts within and between most excavated units. The preliminary
results of the refitting demonstrate that most if not all of the artifacts at Mira
Nascente were deposited at the same time. Use-wear analyses identified patterns
on several flakes consistent with soft-tissue cutting, possibly scaling fish. Bone
cutting is also evident (Fig. 9.12). Most flakes exhibit no visible traces of use
wear, indicating that their use did not result in visible wear or many of the poten-
tial tools were lost in the sand by the maker. Thus, the assemblage represents a
unique, temporally high-resolution example of Neanderthal behavior in
Portugal.
Mira Nascente appears to be a locale within a local Neanderthal seascape (sensu
Gamble 1999; Bailey and Milner 2003). The lithic assemblage demonstrates a high
degree of flexibility in land-use strategies by Neanderthals during the Late Middle
Paleolithic. This technological expression suggests differences from the traditional
view of land use and raw material exploitation with a disparity between coastal and
inland activities and land use. Presently, the coastal sites generally appear to be much
smaller than those known from caves and fluvial terraces, with fewer artifacts
and very little evidence for retouch. The emergent pattern of Paleolithic settlement
Fig. 9.11 Levallois flakes from Mira Nascente
in central Portugal is one of a continual, if poorly understood, coastal-inland move-

ment of people in Estremadura. The Neanderthal “landscape of habit” included the
coastal zone and likely expanded and contracted depending on the “rhythms” of
“social and technical activities” and paleoenvironmental change (Gamble 1999: 82).
224
Fig. 9.12 Numbers 1, 2, and 4 are tools used for soft matter, possibly fish. Number 3 was used for soft or semihard undetermined matter. Macroscopic photos at
J.A. Haws et al.
40× and microscopic photos at 200×

The massive white sand layer containing the Mira Nascente locality continues
for about 1 km in the cliffs between Polvoeira and Vale Paredes. In 2006, a brief
reconnaissance led to a second locality with a Middle Paleolithic sidescraper.
In 2008, the survey team systematically tested the white sand layer to the north and
found a third locality. One test revealed a large Middle Paleolithic flake tool with a
multifaceted platform and unidirectional flake removal scars on the dorsal surface.
Based on these finds, there may have been multiple occupations of the Mira
Nascente locale in the Late Middle Paleolithic. Research at Mira Nascente has
revealed a buried littoral seascape that Neanderthals repeatedly visited and under-
took various activities and tasks (Fig. 9.13). This seascape was a “gathering” or
“enduring locale” as Gamble (1999: 71) suggests. In this space, “fleeting, or at best
short-lived event(s)” occurred that resulted in the accumulation of small scatters of
lithic residues (Gamble 1999: 71).
Fig. 9.13 Extent of artifact-bearing deposits and hypothesized buried landscape at Mira
Nascente
Praia Rei Cortiço
Approximately 30 km south of Mira Nascente, the archaeological deposit at Praia

Rei Cortiço, was found at the base of a 30-m high cliff approximately 200 m south
of the Lagoa de Óbidos. This locality is contained in a paleovalley that is deeply
incised into Cretaceous bedrock. The artifacts were found within a white sand and
organic deposit (PC5a & b) that is sedimentologically similar to the white sand at
Mira Nascente (Figs. 9.14 and 9.15). The overlying Pleistocene fill includes an
eolian sand (PC4) dated 101,010 ± 7,870 cal BP, a gravelly sand deposit with flaser
Fig. 9.14 Stratigraphic profile of Praia Rei Cortiço
Fig. 9.15 Archaeological excavation trench at Praia Rei Cortiço

Fig. 9.16 Organic-rich deposit with mineral weathering and charcoal
bedding consistent with an intertidal environment (PC3), and a gravelly fluvial

deposit with clearly defined paleochannels (PC2) dated 15,060 ± 980 cal BP
(Table 9.1). A thick peat deposit was exposed about 150 m south at the base of the
Quaternary sequence, at the same elevation as PC5 (Fig. 9.16). Several radiocarbon
determinations at the limit of the technique or of infinite age strongly suggest that
the peat is beyond 50,000 RCYBP. The peat traces laterally to the north but disap-
pears under a thick slumped section of the cliff.
The project team undertook an emergency excavation of the site in 2008. Owing
to time constraints, the excavated area was very small. The team mapped a 1 × 5-m
trench along the exposure. Vertical control for the artifacts was established using a
transit and level. The sediments were sieved through a 4 mm and 2 mm mesh to
retrieve small flakes and chips. Sediment and charcoal samples were taken from the
organic-rich fill (PC5b) that appears to be the edge of the peat deposit exposed to
the south. Sedimentological and micromorphological analyses are still pending.
Yellow and reddish bands within the fill indicate postdepositional weathering of
minerals (Fig. 9.17). This coloring is typical of marsh and tidal flat soils in which
redox reaction occurs as a result of wet/dry cycles (Wells 2001). The amount of
charcoal present suggests that heat alteration may have been partly responsible.
The recovered artifacts include quartzite, quartz, and chert flakes (Fig. 9.18).
Many of these are cortical flakes that imply core preparation at the site. Several
flakes derive from Levallois and centripetal or discoidal cores. A few have chapeau
and multifaceted platforms characteristic of the Middle Paleolithic. The only
retouched pieces are two notched flakes. The artifacts appear in primary context
without much evidence for wind or water polishing. This suggests a fairly rapid
burial by the overlying sand without lengthy exposure to the elements. Numerous
Fig. 9.17 Peat deposit at Praia Rei Cortiço
pieces of charcoal were recovered from the organic-rich deposit that contained
several burned chert flakes displaying fractures and potlids. Two of the potlids
remained in direct contact with their parent flakes. One piece returned an uncali-
brated radiocarbon date of 46,850 ± 250 RCYBP; however, the OSL age of 101,010
± 7,870 cal BP from the overlying sands suggests a Last Interglacial age or older
(Table 9.1). Preliminary observations point to a Middle Paleolithic site located near
a coastal wetland or marsh.
The thick peat deposit exposed to the south appears to have a five-part envi-
ronmental sequence. The section was sampled at 1–2 cm contiguous intervals and
sampled using standard methodology (Faegri et al. 1989). High sedges, heath
vegetation, and pines characterized the initial stage. The species identified
indicate a freshwater marsh environment with sedges and bog myrtle surrounded
by open heath (Ericaceae). Deciduous hardwoods replaced this vegetation com-
munity. Nearby woodlands were composed of Betula, Fagus, Corylus, Rosaceae
and other temperate and Mediterranean species. The hardwood forests abruptly
converted to pine-dominated woodlands. Tree taxa become minor components
and open environments establish with the rise of heath indicators. The final
period indicates steppe-like conditions with abundant grasses and herbaceous
types. Substantial time depth is likely for the formation of the peat. The record of
environmental change suggests alterations of wet dry cycles with changing resource
availability.
The accumulated data suggest that the Praia Rei Cortiço paleovalley was incised
during a sea-level lowstand (MIS 6 or earlier). The subsequent MIS 5 transgression
led to blockage of the valley by beach and/or dune sand. The higher water table
allowed a wetland to form behind this barrier. Throughout MIS 5, this wetland
witnessed several wet/dry fluctuations that altered the vegetated environment.
Fig. 9.18 Lithic artifacts from Praia Rei Cortiço

Neanderthals likely occupied the locale toward the latter part of MIS 5 as most of
the artifacts were found in PC5a and the uppermost portion of PC5b. Increased
aridity noted at the top of the peat sequence may have permitted natural fires that
burned the artifacts at PC5 in situ. On the contrary, a cultural explanation may be
offered if micromorphological analyses indicate that the deposit is a hearth.
Southern Estremadura
South of Peniche, coastal deposits such as marine platforms with gravel beaches
have been known since the early twentieth century (Choffat and Dollfus 1904-07).
In 1942, Abbé Breuil and Georges Zbyszewski conducted an archaeological and
geological reconnaissance of the Estremaduran coast between Peniche and Cabo
Espichel, documenting several localities along the coast with ancient beach
deposits and cultural artifacts from the Acheulean through the Upper Paleolithic
(Table 9.4) (Breuil and Zbyszewski 1945). They attributed ancient marine plat-
forms and gravel beach deposits to a Mediterranean sequence (Sicilien, Milazzien,
Table 9.4 Localities identified by Breuil and Zybszewski (1945) and the sedimentary contexts of
artifact finds
Early Acheulean Upper
(Abbevillian) Acheulean Mousterian paleolithic
Peniche
Porto de Lobos Ancient beach Ancient beach
Praia de Gray sands
Consolação
Santa Cruz Ancient beach Brown sands Gray sands
Ribamar
Fort of São
Lourenço
Praia de Coxo Ancient beach Reddish sands Gray sands
Ericeira
Fort of Milregos
São Julião Pebble/gravels Brown sands Gray sands
Açafora Ancient beach Ancient beach Brown sands Gray sands
Magoito
Pedras Negras
Praia da Ancient beach Gray sands
Aguda
Praia das Ancient beach Surface Surface
Maças
Cascais
Guincho Ancient beach Reddish sands Gray sands
Ribeira da Foz
Oitavos
Tyrrhenien, and Grimaldien) based on relative elevation. Platforms thought to be

Tyrrhenien or Last Interglacial occur at 12–30 m asl, Milazzien (MIS 7–11?) at
40–60 m asl, and Sicilien at 90–100 m asl. Many of the Lower Paleolithic (attrib-
uted to the Abbevillian and Acheulean) lithic artifacts found in the gravel layers
appeared to have been heavily rolled and abraded by the sea during Middle
Pleistocene transgressions. Artifacts and pebbles have characteristic boreholes
from molluscan Lithophaga. Wind-polished Acheulean artifacts occur in sand and
gravel layers above. Mousterian artifacts were reported from overlying reddish
sands that were capped in some places by gray sands bearing Upper Paleolithic
artifacts. At Ribamar, near the Fort of São Lourenço, they describe deposits of yel-
low sand with limpet shells thought to be Grimaldien (Würm). None of these
Pleistocene localities have been radiometrically dated or described in detail.
As mentioned above, the lack of bone or shell preservation in the sand deposits
of northern Estremadura is likely due to higher soil acidity and precipitation that
washed carbonates out of the sediments. In southern Estremadura, carbonate sand
deposits preserve terrestrial gastropods in eolian dunes and marine invertebrates in
raised beaches (Pereira 1987). Carbonate dunes at São Julião and Magoito contain
early Holocene shell middens (Pereira and Correia 1985). Older Pleistocene sands
with shell preservation occur to the south. Near the Fort of Guincho, Breuil and
Zbyszewski (1945) mention in situ Mousterian artifacts with possible association
of Thais (Purpura) haemastoma shells.
Setúbal Peninsula
Raised marine deposits also occur along the Arrábida chain on the southern Setúbal
peninsula. Faults and diapiric folds also mark this area of the coast (Regnauld et al.
1994). A cave site, Figueira Brava, is situated above a marine platform covered by a
cobbly conglomerate that extends into the cave and lies directly on the bedrock (Pais
and Legoinha 2000). Excavations revealed a disturbed Holocene layer followed by
three Pleistocene sedimentary layers (2–4) overlying the marine conglomerate (Antunes
and Cardoso 2000). The top layers 2–3 produced over 2,000 lithic artifacts, of which
358 were retouched (Raposo and Cardoso 2000). Layer 4 is sterile sands. Most of the
stone tools were manufactured on local quartz. The few chert tools were brought in as
heavily worked tools made elsewhere on nonlocal raw material. The faunal assemblage
shows evidence for Neanderthal use of marine and estuarine resources. A radiocarbon
date of 30,930 ± 700 RCYBP on Patella shells places the occupation in late MIS 3.
Zybszewski and Teixeira (1949) interpreted the conglomerate as a Tyrrhenian or
Last Interglacial beach based on its position approximately 5–8 m asl, an elevation
widely accepted as height of the MIS 5e sea-level highstand despite the lack of
supporting radiometric dates at the time for this particular locale (e.g., Rohling
et al. 2008b). A few kilometers west along the coast, the platform and conglomerate
are visible at Forte da Barralha where Breuil and Zbyszewski (1945) described
three sand deposits with shells between 5 and 60 m asl. The one at 10–11 m elevation
asl in a striking wave-cut notch recently produced radiocarbon dates of ~36,000

RCYBP (Table 9.5) (Figs. 9.19 and 9.20) (Pereira and Angelucci 2004). Therefore,
the marine platform and cobbly conglomerate likely record a MIS 3 sea-level
highstand instead of a Last Interglacial one if the radiocarbon dates from Forte da
Barralha and Figueira are accepted. Further support can be found in the faunal
assemblages from both sites.
Figueira Brava also offers tantalizing evidence for late Neanderthal use of a
broad range of coastal resources, but the lack of taphonomic analysis for most
of the material warrants caution (Antunes 2000c). Mammalian fauna from Figueira
Brava include ringed seal (Pusa hispida) and dolphin (Delphinus delphis)
(Antunes 2000b). Callapez (2000) identified 36 species of marine invertebrates of
Table 9.5 Radiocarbon dates from localities of the Arrábida coast

14
C age (BP) Cal BP
Forte da Barralha 1 ICEN-1127 Marine shell 25,250+3990/−2650 29,050
Forte da Barralha 2 ICEN-1129 Carbonate 23,810 ± 290 27,741 ± 485
Forte da Barralha 3 ICEN-1131 Mytilus sp. shells 33,730+3990/−2660 36,869
Figueira Brava ICEN-387 Patella sp. shells 30,930 ±700 32,440–35,060
Adapted from Pereira et al. (2007)
Fig. 9.19 Wave-cut notch (10–11 m) above exposed marine platform west of the Forte da
Barralha
Fig. 9.20 Cobbly conglomerate with shell-bearing carbonate sands adhering to the surface lying
in front of the wave-cut notch
which mussel, limpet, clam, and crab were at least used as food (Table 9.6).
According to his analyses, the presence of Patella, Mytilus, Monodonta, Thais,
Cancer, Maja implies rocky shores with intertidal and infralittoral substrates.
Pecten, Anthocardium, Laevecardium, Lutraria, and Callista indicate soft bottom,
sandy banks and shoals inundated even during low tide. Tapes, Solen, and Ostrea
prefer muddy sands in brackish estuarine waters. The shellfish from Figueira Brava
indicates a diverse coastal setting with rocky shores, intertidal pools, shallow
coastal water, and estuaries. Among the birds, Mourer-Chauviré and Antunes
(2000) report 30 species from Figueira Brava, Puffinus holeae and Larus fuscus
being the most common (Table 9.7). The Great Auk, Alca impennis, is also present
and presumed to indicate cool oceanic conditions given its historic distribution
(Antunes 2000c; Zilhão 2000). Two tortoises with different present-day habitat
preferences provide apparently contradictory paleoclimate indications or perhaps
represent nonanalog conditions. The European land tortoise, Testudo hermanni,
prefers Mediterranean-type warm, dry summers, while Emys orbicularis prefers
cooler conditions (de Lapparent-de Broin and Antunes 2000). Overall, the fauna
from Figueira Brava suggest similar conditions to the present day, but a few
inconsistencies point to nonanalog environments due to extended ranges of cold-
adapted species.
At Forte da Barralha, Breuil and Zbyszewski (1945) list marine invertebrate shells
from three localities listed in Table 9.8. The two lower deposits contain shells from
species found in the area today and further evidence of nonanalog associations. Patella
Table 9.6 Marine invertebrates from Figueira Brava

Figueira Brava marine
invertebrates Common name Presence/absence today
Mollusca
Bivalvia
Striarca lacteal Milky ark Present
Glycymeris glycymeris Dog cockle Present
Mytilus galloprovincialis Mediterranean mussel Present
Pecten maximus Great scallop Present
Anomia ephippium Saddle oyster Present
Ostrea edulis European flat oyster Present
Loripes lacteus
Acanthocardia aculeate Spiny cockle Present
Parvicardium exiguum Little cockle Present
Laevicardium norvegicum Norwegian egg cockle North sea
Spisula sp. White or Atlantic surf clam Present
Lutraria lutraria Common otter-shell Present
Ervilia castanea Present
Solen marginatus Grooved razor Present
Callista chione Smooth venus clam Present
Tapes decussatus Cross-cut carpet shell Present
Gastropoda
Patella vulgata Common limpet Present
Patella ulyssiponensis China limpet Present
Patella intermedia Black-footed limpet Present
Patella rustica Rustic limpet Present
Gibbula cineraria Gray topshell Present
Monodonta lineata Toothed topshell Present
Monodonta colubrine
Phasianella pullus Sea snail Present
Littorina saxatilis Rough periwinkle Present
Charonia lampas lampas Triton Present
Thais haemastoma Drill Present
Nassarius reticulates Netted dog whelk Present
Arthropoda
Maja squinado European spider crab Present
Cancer pagurus Edible crab Present
Portumnus sp. Small swimming crab
Echinodermata
Paracentrotus lividus Purple sea urchin Present
Data from Callapez (2000)
safiana is found today off Morocco and the Mediterranean coast of Spain, suggesting
warmer waters off Arrabida during MIS 3 or at least an extended range for this par-
ticular species. While these assemblages derive from natural deposits, Breuil and
Zbyzewski (1945) report Mousterian artifacts on the surrounding surfaces above
the raised beaches. Given the association of Neanderthals and shellfish at Figueira
Brava, it is possible that they were collecting seafood at Forte da Barralha as well.
Table 9.7 Coast-dwelling birds from Figueira Brava

Birds from Figueira Brava
Scientific name Common name Presence/absence
Shore birds
Gavia stellata Red-headed loon Winter
Podiceps nigricollis Black-necked grebe Winter
Puffinus holeae Shearwater Extinct
Anas platyrynchos Mallard duck Year-round
Melanitta nigra Black scoter (sea duck) Winter
Melanitta fusca Velvet scoter (sea duck) Winters in northern Spain
Clangula hyemalis Long-tailed duck (sea duck) Winters in northern Europe
Milvus migrans Black kite Summer
Larus fuscus Lesser black-backed gull Year-round
Pinguinus impennis Great auk Extinct
Grus primigenia Late Pleistocene Extinct
Mediterranean crane
Numenius phaeopus Whimbrel Winter
Calidris canutus Knot Winter
Data from Mourer-Chauviré and Antunes (2000)
Table 9.8 Marine invertebrates from Forte da Barralha

Forte da Barralha marine
Level 1 (6m asl)
Venerupis (Tapes) pullastra Pullet carpet shell Present
Chamelea (Venus) gallina Striped Venus Rare in northern Portugal
Acanthocardia (Cardium) echinatum European prickly cockle Present
Cerastoderma (Cardium) edule Common cockle Present
Laevicardium (Cardium) norvegicum Norwegian egg cockle Present
Glycymeris bimaculata Two-spotted bittersweet Present
cockle
Mytilus edulis Blue mussel Present
Patella safiana Safian limpet Off Morocco and
Mediterranean Spain
Patella coerulea Mediterranean limpet Present
Echinus miliaris Sea urchin Present
Paracentrotus (Strongilocentrotus) Purple sea urchin Present
lividus
Level 2 (15m asl)
Spisula (Mactra) solida White or Atlantic surf clam Present
Acanthocardia (Cardium) echinatum Prickly cockle Present
Laevicardium (Cardium) norvegicum Norwegian egg cockle Present
Cerastoderma (Cardium) edule Common cockle Present
Mytilus galloprovincialis Mediterranean mussel Present
(continued)
Table 9.8 (continued)
Forte da Barralha marine
Patella coerulea Mediterranean limpet Present
Paracentrotus (Strongilocentrotus) Purple sea urchin Present
lividus
Ocenebra (Murex) erinaceus Oyster drill Present
Thais (Purpura) haemastoma Dog winkle (drill) Present
Pollicipes cornucopiae Pendunculate barnacle Present
Level 3 (62m asl)
Mactra subtruncata Cut trough shell Present
Spisula (Mactra) solida White or Atlantic surf clam Present
Donax vittatus Banded wedge shell Rare in southern Portugal
Cardium echinatum European prickly cockle Present
Data from Breuil and Zbyzewski (1945)
The marine fauna from Figueira Brava and Forte da Barralha indicate a
predominance of species found in the area today. The co-occurrence of Arctic and
Mediterranean species is not surprising given the climatic instability of MIS 3 and
likely overlap of geographic ranges of species that are not associated today. The
absence of Strombus bubonius shells, common in MIS 5e raised beaches from the
Mediterranean to France, suggests that none of the Arrábida shell assemblages and
associated marine platforms or beaches (including Figueira Brava) date to the Last
Interglacial (Bardají et al. 2009). The species representation in each assemblage is
consistent with the radiocarbon dates for an MIS 3 age of the formation of the
deposits at both localities.
Given the estimates for MIS 3 sea level, the Arrábida data provide further
evidence for neotectonic uplift of sections of the Portuguese coast. Estimates for
the rate of uplift have ranged from 7.5 to 0.25 mm year-1. The higher rates were
based on two radiocarbon dates (26,500 ± 600, 25,100 ± 720 RCYBP) from the
lower (7 m) terrace (Regnauld 1994). Regnauld et al. (1994, 1995) argued for a low
rate of 0.25 mm year-1 considering the rate of coastal retreat along the Arrábida
coast and assuming that the upper (20 m) terrace dates to the Eemian (MIS 5e)
and the lower ~7 m terrace dates to the St. Germain I interstadial at about 100,000
RCYBP. Submerged marine terraces have been recorded at depths of −7, −12, and
−20 m (Regnauld et al. 1994). The submerged terraces remain problematic
because they are undated, yet Regnauld et al. (1994) assume that the −7 m
level is mid-Holocene.
Interpretations of the raised Arrábida coastal deposits have been plagued by the
continued assumption that the marine features visible in the cliffs must date to the
Last Interglacial. The more recent radiocarbon dating of Barralha plus those of
Figueira Brava and the paleontological data place these terraces in late MIS 3,
confirming significant uplift. The thrust faults and strike-slips visible in the cliffs
at Barralha offer definitive evidence for neotectonic activity (Pereira and Regnauld
1994; Pereira et al. 2007). If sea level was at −50 m at 36,000 RCYBP, then that
would imply an uplift rate of about 1.7 mm year-1 (Pereira et al. 2007). Similar
estimates have been suggested by Ribeiro and Cabral (1987) and Benedetti et al.
(2009) for other sections of the Portuguese coast.
Alentejo
Quaternary coastal deposits also occur south of Lisbon, along the Alentejo coast
near Sines. In the Morgavel area, a composite stratigraphic section includes a
Lower Pleistocene beach, followed by Middle Pleistocene fluvial and eolian deposits,
a MIS 5 marine platform subsequently deformed and capped by an eolian dune in
MIS 4/3 (Pereira and Angelucci 2004). A nearby peat deposit has been dated to
42,519 ± 126 RCYBP. This layer is overlain by Pleistocene and recent unconsoli-
dated dunes. The single radiocarbon date for the peat should be considered with
caution given the lack of corroborating OSL ages and the known problems with
radiocarbon dating prior to 30,000 years ago (Joris and Street 2008; Briant and
Bateman 2009). To date, no archaeological remains have been found in association
with these sediments, but no systematic survey has been undertaken.
Algarve
Early evidence for coastal adaptations in Algarve has been found at Gruta da Ibn
Amar near Portimão. The cave opens to a large estuary where the Arade River joins
the Atlantic. A freshwater spring flowing through a karst system drains into the
estuary. Testing near the entrance to one of the chambers revealed Mousterian lithic
artifacts in association with mussel, clam, cockle, and limpet shells (Bicho 2004).
No radiometric dates have been determined. Fewer than 200 flakes were produced
from discoidal reduction on a variety of chert, quartz, and quartzite raw material.
The shellfish come from a mix of estuarine and rocky shore settings that suggest a
different configuration of the coast during the occupation.
Long-Term Trends in Paleolithic Coastal Settlement
Recognizing Paleolithic coastal adaptations has been made difficult by the

dramatic sea-level changes that have continuously altered the configuration and
position of the shoreline during the Pleistocene and Holocene. The Dias et al. (2000)
relative sea-level curve for Portugal places the LGM shore on the −130 to −140
bathymetric contours. Radiocarbon dates of 10,415 ± 120 RCYBP (12,310 ± 230
cal BP) (on shell samples from the mid-platform (−62 m) and 14,000 RCYBP from
the external platform (−120 m) off the coast near Aveiro suggest a slow, steady rise
until after H1 when sea level rose rapidly (Dias 1985). These dates were used to
extrapolate the paleoshoreline for the rest of the Portuguese coast. Thus, according
to Dias et al (2000), approximately 10–20 km of continental shelf may have been
exposed during this period. Despite the fact that the shore was further away and
much of the archaeological record has been destroyed by postglacial transgression,
coastal exploitation is evident through the Upper Paleolithic. The transport of
certain marine resources attests to their importance to prehistoric people, especially
considering the general rule of thumb that hunter-gatherers do not typically trans-
port these items more than 10 km inland from the shore. The Upper Paleolithic
case of Portugal suggests that we need to redefine the concept of “coastal.” After
all, what is 10 km to a highly mobile forager? The ecotone nature of coastal envi-
ronments drew Paleolithic people to the coast, and the settlement data for
Estremadura demonstrate that it was a focal point due to its mosaic environment
and rich resources. Sites such as Vale Boi in Algarve and Lagar Velho in
Estremadura contain seafood remains in pre-LGM contexts. Other sites such as
Suão, Picareiro, Coelhos, and Caldeirão provide additional direct evidence for
visits to the shore throughout the Upper Paleolithic. Numerous open-air Upper
Paleolithic sites have been recorded in the coastal Pleistocene sands of Estremadura,
suggesting a fairly regular settlement of this coastal region by highly dispersed
groups of foragers during MIS 2. Settlements probably occurred more frequently
and for longer durations on the now-submerged glacial shoreline where resource
availability was much higher. The coastal strip of Portugal during the Pleistocene
would have been characterized by:
• Enhanced upwelling and ocean productivity.

• Reduced terrestrial plant and animal availability during cold events.
• Increased freshwater availability on the exposed continental shelf during sea-
level lowstands.
While a substantial area of land may have been lost in the last 20,000 years, the
impact of earlier relative sea level fluctuations is uncertain and subject to debate.
Numerous places along the Portuguese coast have evidence for earlier sea-level
highstands long thought to date to periods when eustatic sea level was higher than
present. With the application of radiometric dating techniques, many of these fea-
tures can now be placed in an age-controlled stratigraphic context. The emerging
data suggest that many deposits that were assumed to date to the Last Interglacial
are much younger, dating to MIS 3. The dating of Late Pleistocene coastal deposits
above present sea level indicate that there has been significant neotectonic activity
that has uplifted ancient shorelines and associated sediments.
Much of the evidence for Paleolithic coastal settlement is preserved by tec-
tonic activity that has uplifted sections of the coast making them visible on land
today. This has important implications for understanding the archaeological
record of the region. Praia Rei Cortico and Mira Nascente demonstrate a
Neanderthal presence in coastal wetlands during MIS 5 and 3, respectively. These
locales offer a glimpse into the Neanderthal “taskscape” that linked the paths and
tracks of their “landscape of habit” (Gamble 1999: 68; cf. Ingold 1993). Sites
such as Mira Nascente and Figueira Brava expand the “scale of the landscape of
habit” to include the littoral zone (Gamble 1999:87). The faunal preservation at
Figueira Brava confirms Neanderthal exploitation of seafood at least as far back
as MIS 3. The available data indicate a fairly broad strategy of exploiting a
diverse range of littoral habitats. Neanderthals did not randomly and opportunis-
tically visit the shore. Rather, Neanderthal paths and tracks across central
Portugal linked terrestrial, riparian landscapes and littoral seascapes within their
socially constructed landscape (Gamble 1999: 85). Thus, the use of coastal
wetlands was part of recurrent settlement pattern and not simply a rare occur-
rence. If one takes a broader regional perspective, the record from Portugal fits
into the emerging picture of a coastal stronghold for the last Neanderthals in
southern Iberia (Finlayson 2008). The ecologically rich, diverse ecotone settings
of the region enabled Neanderthals to persist for several millennia after their
extinction in western and central Europe.
Older evidence for coastal adaptations may exist, but further survey and radio-
metric dating of known Pleistocene coastal deposits with associated artifacts are
necessary. The numerous finds of Acheulean bifaces and flake tools on raised
marine terraces or platforms in the Minho and Estremadura hint at a coastal focus
by Lower Paleolithic humans in Portugal. The wind- and water-worn appearance
indicates significant reworking of the artifacts, but their initial deposition must
have taken place near the shore. We can speculate given the limited evidence from
Terra Amata that Homo heidelbergensis favored the Atlantic coast as well. As Fa
(2008) has argued, the higher tidal amplitude and productivity of this margin would
have made it a favored zone for rapid colonization.
Acknowledgements This material is based upon work supported by the National Science
Foundation under Grant Nos. BCS-0455145 and BCS-0715279 (Haws, PI). Additional support
came from the University of Louisville, Association of American Geographers Research Grant
(Benedetti) and the University of North Carolina Wilmington, and the University of Wyoming
(Minckley). Radiocarbon determinations were made by Beta Analytic Inc., Miami, FL and the
Center for Applied Isotope Studies at the University of Georgia. OSL ages were provided by the
Luminescence Research Laboratory, University of Illinois-Chicago. The authors also acknowl-
edge Yemane Asmerom, University of New Mexico, for assistance with U-Th dates for Buraca
Gloriosa. Finally, we wish to thank all of the undergraduate students who participated in the field-
work and helped make this work possible.
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Chapter 10
Small Game and Marine Resource Exploitation
by Neanderthals: The Evidence from Gibraltar
Kimberly Brown, Darren A. Fa, Geraldine Finlayson, and Clive Finlayson
Introduction
Debates surrounding Neanderthals and Anatomically Modern Humans (AMH) tend

to focus primarily on discussions of cognitive ability, as exemplified by perceived
differences in stone tool technology, behaviour and extinction outcomes. One of the
primarily cited differences involves the subsistence strategies practised by these
different groups of humans (Brown 2009).
The general consensus is that “archaic” human populations, such as the
Neanderthals in Europe and the Middle Stone Age populations in Africa, did not
practice any form of systematic and specialised game hunting; in extreme versions,
such archaic humans appear to have been inept at capturing the faster or volant of
the smaller preys (Stiner et al. 1999, 2000; Richards et al. 2001, 2005; Drucker and
Bocherens 2004) or unable to adequately diversify their subsistence base to
incorporate other (e.g., marine) resources (Klein 1989, 2001; Klein and Cruz-Uribe
1996, 2000; Klein et al. 2004, 2007). The overall implication is that only the AMHs
were capable of more fully exploiting their surroundings, which ultimately gave
them an edge over other human groups.
Four main schools of thought have been identified within the relevant literature
(Brown 2009):
1. There is the suggestion that Neanderthals were obligate meat eaters, a view
which is claimed to have been further substantiated by recent stable isotope
analyses of Neanderthal specimens which show them as dependent on a high-
protein diet derived mainly from large herbivorous mammalian prey. The
comparison has been made with high trophic-level carnivores, (Bocherens et al.
1999, 2005; Richards et al. 2000, 2008; Balter and Simon 2006; Lee-Thorp and
K. Brown (*)
248 K. Brown et al.
Sponheimer 2006). This is not an unexpected result, given that the stable isotope
analyses were all carried out on Neanderthal specimens that came from sites on
the Eurasian Plain, a vast geographical area known for its low resource diversity
especially during glacials and stadials; here, in the absence of alternative food
typical of more southerly latitudes, human populations would have been forced
to consume a high-protein diet (Finlayson et al. 2007). However, by taking the
step of claiming a protein-rich diet for all Neanderthals, proponents of this
scenario are moving beyond what the data they have actually support. It is essen-
tially the same as sampling modern Inuit (who live in a low-diversity environment –
Speth and Spielmann 1983; Noli and Avery 1988) and from this stating that all
humans today live on a high-protein diet. Diet is known to vary geographically
in present hunter-gatherers (Lee and Daly 1999) and there is no reason why we
should not expect Palaeolithic subsistence strategies to similarly reflect the
resources available in the various environments and habitats they occupied.
2. Data from some Mediterranean sites are used to portray the Neanderthals as
scavengers/occasional hunters and gatherers. In this scenario, they are seen
behaving similarly to the Spotted Hyaena (Crocuta crocuta), both scavenging
and hunting regularly, as opposed to the Striped or Brown Hyaena (Hyaena
hyaena and Parahyaena brunnea, respectively), which are obligate scavengers,
or wolves and Upper Palaeolithic human populations which were obligate
hunters (Stiner 1994). Again, there are problems with this scenario, once more
stemming from the over-extension of biogeographically limited datasets to
encompass entire species across large time spans. In the example cited above,
the comparison of Neanderthals to Spotted Hyaenas and AMH to wolves and
other obligate hunters (Stiner 1994) stemmed from an analysis (Coefficient of
Anatomical Completeness) carried out on data obtained from some Italian
Mediterranean sites. However, application of the same analysis to data from
southern France instead showed the Neanderthals as behaviourally closer to
wolves and Upper Palaeolithic populations, and not scavengers (Boyle 2000).
3. Although Neanderthals are considered capable of enjoying a fairly diverse diet,
gathering small and slow-moving prey species such as tortoises and molluscs,
extension of their hunting practices to include the capture of the more agile birds
and rabbits would only take place once the sessile prey had been overexploited.
Birds and hares are only thought to be exploited systematically and en masse
during the Upper Palaeolithic (Stiner et al. 1999, 2000; Richards et al. 2001, 2005;
Drucker and Bocherens 2004). This is the Broad Spectrum Revolution model.
4. This scenario sees “archaic” populations (such as Neanderthals) as completely
inefficient hunters, only capable of hunting the smaller, more abundant, of the
large game animals found in the surrounding areas and avoiding large and
dangerous animals. They thus secured resources by random encounter. They are
considered incapable of exploiting any alternative resources as successfully, if at
all, when compared with behaviourally “Modern” populations (Klein 1989;
Klein and Cruz-Uribe 2000; Klein et al. 2004, 2007).
10 Small Game and Marine Resource Exploitation by Neanderthals 249
There are various methodological and interpretative problems with the scenarios
described, but all have one thing in common: they tacitly start from the premise that
the Neanderthals were inferior species, in terms of cognitive as well as hunting
abilities, when compared with “Modern” populations. Evidence from particular
sites is usually then used to substantiate this claim, but these comparisons are
invariably set against a backdrop of changing environmental conditions, making
such assessments problematic.
In this study, we focus on evidence from Gorham’s Cave and other Gibraltar
sites to present a case comparing resource exploitation by both Middle Palaeolithic
Neanderthals and Upper Palaeolithic AMH populations, which occupied a land-
scape that changed little between occupation by Neanderthals during MIS 3 and the
appearance of AMH in MIS 2.
The Coast
This study presents the results of excavations carried out in Middle and Upper
Palaeolithic levels at Gorham’s and Vanguard Caves in Gibraltar over the last
decade. Despite climatic upheavals and sea-level changes during the Pleistocene,
these sites were never more than a few kilometres away from the sea (Finlayson
et al. 2008b; Carrión et al. 2008; Fa, in press) and can be considered as “coastal”
for the duration of the time period in question, spanning the so-called Middle-
Upper Palaeolithic transition.
We do not attempt to be prescriptive about what the coast is other than to
establish that it is more than the accessible intertidal strip of land at the water’s
edge. It is an ecotone between land and sea that is of variable width and structurally
complex, both in terms of physical characteristics and the environments it contains,
incorporating a mosaic of different ecosystems in close proximity and generating a
high diversity of both habitats and consumable resources within (Finlayson and Giles
Pacheco 2000; Finlayson 2006; Bailey et al. 2008; Fa 2008; Finlayson et al. 2008a).
Moreover, we do not presuppose that exploitation of the coastal zone necessarily
implies an emphasis on marine resources (Bailey et al. 2008), but rather a region
where high productivities and environmental heterogeneity would allow for sustained
exploitation by small groups of hunter-gatherers who might vary the relative contribu-
tion of the various resources available to their subsistence strategies depending on
spatiotemporal availability, as well as possible additional socio-cultural factors.
In particular, we will be focusing on two oft-cited criteria that have been used to
exclude Neanderthals from subsistence strategies associated with behavioural
modernity: their apparent dependence on exploitation of big game to the exclusion
of smaller prey and lack of a “broad spectrum” in their resource exploitation,
usually identified by a lack of diversity in prey types such as marine resources
(Finlayson 2004; Brown 2009).
250 K. Brown et al.
Gorham’s and Vanguard Caves
Gibraltar (36°7’N, 5°20’W) is a small, 6 km long, 426 m high peninsula situated at
the southern extreme of the Iberian Peninsula, 21 km from the coast of North Africa
(Morocco). The western coast is sheltered by a large bay, while the eastern side
faces the Mediterranean and is subject to increased wave action. This has resulted
in the creation of steep cliffs and large sea caverns along the eastern side (Rodríguez-
Vidal et al. 2004). This eastern side is also dominated by a large sand dune which
was responsible for the sealing, and therefore the preservation, of some sites during
the Palaeolithic (Fig. 10.1).
Gorham’s and Vanguard Caves are two of these caverns, sections of which have
been excavated as part of the Gibraltar Caves Project, under the supervision of the
Gibraltar Museum, since 1989. The long occupation of the site of Gorham’s Cave
by Neanderthals was first brought to light in the 1950s (Waechter 1951, 1964) and
a number of subsequent excavations close to the Cave entrance (Stringer et al. 1999;
Stringer 2000). More recently, excavations commenced in the interior of the cave in
an area not previously systematically excavated. From this area, a stratigraphic
Horizon (Layer IV) containing Mousterian implements and a hearth was dated using
14
C. The results indicated a late Neanderthal occupation of the site to at least
28,000 RCYBP, and probably as recently as 24,000 RCYBP (Table 10.1). There is
no evidence of further human occupation of the site for approximately 5,000 years
after which evidence of Solutrean technocomplexes appears in the overlaying
Fig. 10.1 Scale plan of Vanguard and Gorham’s Caves. The black areas denote excavations
referred to in the text (X – Stringer et al. 2008; Y – Finlayson et al. 2006). Image modified from
Finlayson et al. (2000)
Table 10.1 Radiocarbon dates from Gorham’s Cave (after Finlayson et al. 2006)
Level/cultural Laboratory AMS radiocarbon age
attribution reference (year) with 2d 13
C/12C ratio (‰)
III/Solutrean Beta-185343 10,880±80 −25.4
III/Solutrean Beta-181895 12,460±100 −24
III/Solutrean Beta-181896 13,870 ±80 −24
IV/Mousterian Beta-196782 23,360±320 −22.4
IV/Mousterian Beta-185345 23,780±540 −25
IV/Mousteriana Beta-196775 24,010±320 −24
IV/Mousteriana Beta-196773 26,400±440 −23.2
IV/Mousterian Beta-185344 27,020±480 −25
IV/Mousteriana Beta-196776 30,560±720 −24.5
a
Samples coming from the hearth horizon
s tratigraphic Horizon (Layer III), dated to range between approximately 11,000 to

18,000 RCYBP, which was shown to be mineralogically, geochemically and strati-
graphically independent of Level IV. Further details of site excavation, methodolo-
gies and results can be found in Finlayson et al. (2006) and (2008b).
Environmental Reconstructions
Works carried out on pollen and charcoal remains have allowed workers to establish
the floristic composition of the surroundings (Finlayson 2006; Carrión et al. 2008),
and from these and additional climatic indicators, glean an insight into the
prevailing environment outside these caves.
252 K. Brown et al.
The combined data provided by plant macrofossils, pollen (Carrion et al. 2008)
and the remains of vertebrates (amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals) were used
by Finlayson (2006) to reconstruct the vegetation and landscape outside Gorham’s
Cave at the end of MIS 3 and MIS 2. These results permitted an approximation of
the climatic conditions and vegetation types available outside the cave at a time
when lowered sea levels exposed a sandy plain with the coastline receding up to
4.5 km from its present position. Overall, the conclusion drawn by Finlayson (2006)
was that the predominant bioclimate during the late MIS 3 and initial MIS 2
was thermo-Mediterranean, Subhumid, and occasionally meso-Mediterranean,
Dry. The annual temperature range predicted was 13–19°C and the annual rainfall
350–1,000 mm. The vegetation was varied, and the results consistently suggest that
the sandy substrate of the emerged coastal plain supported a patchwork or mosaic of
different habitats within close proximity to the cave, which would in turn imply a
high biodiversity within a short interval of space, a feature that would have offered
multiple foraging opportunities at different stages of the year.
The main habitat types identified by Finlayson (2006) were:
1. Stone Pine Pinus pinea open woodland/savannah. The dominant tree formation
was Stone Pine woodland, characteristic then, as today, of shifting sand dune
systems. The vegetation of a mobile dune is dependent on the speed at which the
dunes are moving and on the depth of the water table and is characterised by the
large amount of bare sands that are present. The tree species Pinus pinea is
associated with the mobile dune, being the only species that matures at a rate that
can keep up with the pace of the movement of the dunes. Other plant species such
as Halimium spp. are found in the dune slacks and were present outside Gorham’s
Cave. Mammal species support the presence of the parkland habitats: Cervus
elaphus, Equus caballus, Bos primigenius, and Sus scrofa (Currant 2000).
2. Juniper scrub, woodland and mixed Pine/Juniper woodland. The genus Juniperus
was found in a large percentage in both the pollen and charcoal records, and
today, grows well in more stabilised dunes than those in which the Stone Pines
live. Although it is not possible to identify the species at Gorham’s, it is likely to
be J. phoenicea which is found in warm climate and sandy substrates.
Other plant species are associated with dune woodlands according to the depth of
the water table. The presence of Pistacia lentiscus characterised the driest areas,
while the presence of Quercus suber and Olea europaea would have been associated
with parkland environment (see above), and species such as Myrtus, Arbutus unedo,
Smilax and Lonicera suggest areas of wetter dune-lands, with a higher incidence of
Q. suber, which would have made the vegetation dense and often impenetrable.
3. Cistus and Erica shrubland. In the more stabilised sandy substrates, Cistus,
Erica and Lavandula would have been associated with the driest scrub, with
Halimium, Calluna vulgaris, and in the wettest scrublands, by Erica and Ulex.
A number of reptile and amphibian species also reflect sandy areas: Acanthodactylus
erythrurus, Pelobates cultipres and Hyla meridionalis. Where the water table was
high, there would have been lakes, ponds and bogs with appropriate aquatic
vegetation such as Salix. Mytenus and Calicotome are diagnostic species that are
indicative of thermophilic coastal scrub (Carrion et al. 2008).
4. Cliff vegetation. The olive Olea europaea grows predominantly on the limestone
of the Rock itself forming woodlands and is amply recorded from Gorham’s
Cave. The Spanish Ibex Capra pyrenaica was the commonest large mammal at
Gorham’s and would also have required cliffs or rocky habitats.
5. Grassland vegetation. Coastal plains associated with a dune system are composed
of the stabilised dunes which usually form a series of arched ridges (old dunes)
separated by flat depressions (old slacks), which with shallow water tables would
have flooded, filling temporary lakes and ponds. Mobile dunes separate the
marshes from the sea. These grasslands and marshes are indicated in the record
by species of amphibians which require seasonal water such as Pleurodeles waltl,
Triturus marmoratus pygmaeus, Bufo bufo spinosus and Bufo calamita, while
reptile species Mauremys leprosa and Natrix maura require standing water.
The results indicate a high degree of similarity in the thermo-Mediterranean,
subhumid environments and associated ecosystems surrounding the caves during
the latter stages of MIS 3 and the onset of MIS 2 (Finlayson 2006; Finlayson et al.
2006, 2007). The evidence from the Gibraltar sites points to a dominant habitat of
an open woodland “savannah” with mosaic scrub and patches of denser woodland
and thickets, with sandy areas, cliffs and rocky outcrops, as well as standing fresh
water, the latter probably highly seasonal in nature. Finlayson and Carrión (2007)
showed how the environments surrounding Gibraltar did not undergo the same
dramatic changes that have been observed in the archaeological record at more
northerly, less climatically buffered locations. This result is of particular relevance
as it allows the comparison of subsistence strategies for both Neanderthals and
AMHs in relatively homogenous environments.
Evidence for Exploitation of Terrestrial Small

Game for Consumption
Ethnographical research has shown modern-day hunter-gatherer diets to be subsi-

dised as by small game and plants as by large game (O’Connell et al. 1988a, b;
Byers and Ugan 2005). Many authors have begun to accept the fact that Palaeolithic
diets may have been the same (e.g. Haws 2004; Hockett 2006).
To date, in the Mousterian levels from Gorham’s Cave, two species of amphibian,
seven reptiles, 11 large mammals and 44 bird species have been identified (Finlayson
et al. 2006; Brown 2009), not including additional species from overlying Solutrean
deposits. Moreover, the remains of some taxonomic groups, such as rabbits (Oryctolagus
cuniculus) and birds in general, achieve very high densities (in the thousands) spanning
both Mousterian and Solutrean levels (refer to Brown [in press] for details).
The rabbits and birds recovered from excavations at Gorham’s Cave amount to
the largest proportion within the terrestrial faunal assemblage. Table 10.2 tallies the
mammals recovered between the years 1999 and 2003 (Riquelme Cantal, in press)
and clearly shows that rabbit is the predominant mammal recovered from this site.
The bird remains present similar proportions to that of the rabbit, for both
254 K. Brown et al.
Table 10.2 Percentage of prey types present in the faunal assemblages recovered from Gorham’s
Cave between 1999 and 2003 (Riquelme Cantal, in press)
Solutrean (%) Mousterian (%)
Prey type n = 4,061 n = 1,117
Rabbit 88.52 75.55
Ibex 7.26 15.93
Deer 2.78 6.27
Horse 0.17 0.36
Wild boar 0.12 0.27
Monk seal 0.10 0.09
Auroch 0.05 0.09
Narrow-nosed rhinoceros 0.02 0.00
Carnivores 0.96 1.44
Table 10.3 NISP and MNI values for the sample used

Level III Level IV
Solutrean Mousterian
NISP MNI NISP MNI
Immature rabbits 156 20 177 17
17.8% 22.2% 37.5% 50%
Adult rabbits 721 70 295 17
82.2% 77.8% 62.5% 50%
Immature birds 90 37 65 28
15.8% 22.7% 10.5% 17.2%
Adult birds 478 126 554 135
84.2% 77.3% 89.5% 82.8%
The percentages displayed show the proportions of immature and adult individuals by taxa and
occupational level (Brown, in press)
Mousterian and Solutrean levels (Sanchez Marco, personal communication).

Table 10.3 shows the sample NISP and MNI values obtained for these two groups
by Brown (2009), subdivided into mature and immature individuals.
A review of the literature reveals an apparent contradiction in the role of small
prey in Palaeolithic diets. Whereas some argue, based on optimal foraging models,
that small games with their small energetic return are a marginal resource exploited
only by distressed populations (for a critical review of this model see Haws and
Hockett 2004), others see the systematic exploitation of these same resources as a
“modern” feat of cognitively superior humans, who thus enjoyed a dietary “broad
spectrum” (e.g. Stiner et al. 2000). Researches on the nutritional values of these
small prey resources (Hockett and Bicho 2000; Haws and Hockett 2004), which
compared the amount of micro-nutrients found within small game with that found
in larger game, are summarised in Table 10.4, which incorporates some of these
nutritional values for the prey species commonly exploited in southern Iberia.
Table 10.4 shows that, for example, rabbits have more protein per 100 g than
large game such as red deer, goat and horse. Ducks, on the other hand, have a much
higher fat content than the larger game, second only to pine nuts, the latter being
the most nutritionally rich of the food items with both the highest calorific and fat
Table 10.4 Comparative nutritional values expressed in g/100 g (prey items) and in mg/100 g (minerals) commonly recovered from the fossil record in Iberian
sites (after Haws 2004)
Red deer Goat Horse Wild boar Rabbit Duck Partridge Mussel Pine nuts Limpet
Protein (g/100g) 30.2 27.1 28.1 28.3 33 17.4 23 12 26.4 14.3
Fat (g/100g) 1.9 3.03 6.05 4.9 3.51 15.2 1.6 2.2 40 0.7
Carbohydrate (g/100g) 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 4.5 29.2 0.7
Kcal (g/100g) 146 143 175 160 173 211 106 89 510 66
Calcium (mg/100g) 5.0 17.0 8.0 16.0 18.0 5.0 46 20 26 51
Phosphorus (mg/100g) 180 201 247 134 240 168 287 288 508 103
Iron (mg/100g) 3.6 3.7 5.03 1.1 4.9 4.16 7.7 7.3 9.2 5.6
Magnesium (mg/100g) 24 0 25 27 31 20 – – 299 –
Potassium (mg/100g) 328 405 379 396 343 249 386 273 599 –
Sodium (mg/100g) 61 86 55 60 45 56 93 270 4 –
Zinc (mg/100g) 3.2 5.3 3.8 3 2.4 0.77 – 2.8 4.3 –
C (mg/100g) 0 0 2.0 0 0 5.2 0 – 1.9 –
Thiamin (mg/100g) – 0.09 0.1 0.31 0.02 0.35 0 0.16 0.81 0.13
Riboflavin (mg/100g) – 0.61 0.1 0.14 0.07 0.27 0 0.21 0.19 0.04
Niacin (mg/100g) – 3.95 4.8 4.2 6.4 3.3 – – 3.6 –
10 Small Game and Marine Resource Exploitation by Neanderthals
Folic acid (mg/100g) – 5.0 – 6.0 8.0 21.0 – – 57.0 –

A (mg/100g) – – – – – 88 – – – –
E (mg/100g) – – – – 0.79 0.7 – – 3.5 –
B6 (mg/100g) – 0 0.33 0.42 0.34 0.53 – – 0.11 –
B12 (mg/100g) – 1.19 3.16 0.7 6.5 0.65 0 12.0 0 –
255
256 K. Brown et al.
content per 100 g, when compared to other food items such as deer or rabbits
(Table 10.4). The stone pine (P. pinea) is a fairly large tree that is native to the
western Mediterranean and is often found in coastal locations. Stone pine seeds or
pine nuts have been valued as a food source for thousands of years. In Italy and
Spain, stone pine nuts are cultivated or preserved in large stands, and the nuts are
still an important commercial food (Gale and Carruthers 2000).
The remains of charcoal and charred seeds from combustion zones and other
contexts have been found at Gorham’s Cave and Vanguard Cave (Gale and
Carruthers 2000). The charred remains were confirmed as comprising stone pine
cone scale fragments and stone pine nutshell fragments. Ethnographic examples for
the extraction of pine nut kernels by North American Indians using various different
species of pines suggest some tribes would roast the cones for an hour in order to
facilitate the removal and shelling of the nuts (Gale and Carruthers 2000). Some
tribes would also heap the cones up before setting light to them. Once the pitch
burnt off, the scales would partially open, allowing the nuts to fall out. Such a large
quantity, as recorded from Gorham’s and Vanguard Caves, would rule out acciden-
tal intrusion and make their use solely as tinder unlikely. It is therefore possible that
fire may have been used to help open the cones, suggesting that the Mousterian and
Solutrean populations were also actively exploiting this nutritious resource.
Most importantly, these studies show that, in comparison with the smaller game
and plants, traditional large game species are generally quite nutritionally poor.
When considering subsistence strategies in terms of energetic expenditure, as
well as personal risk, the exploitation of small game and plants is much more
energetically efficient, requiring less effort to capture and providing a larger range
of nutrients, particularly those essential, yet hard to find, micro-nutrients vital for a
balanced, healthy diet.
Brown (2009) carried out a detailed taphonomic analysis of this previously
unstudied rabbit and bird faunal assemblage from the Mousterian and Solutrean
levels of Gorham’s Cave, the results of which are outlined below:
(a) Rabbits. Rabbits, although common on the ground, given their high reproductive
rate, remained endemic to the Iberia Peninsula until their relatively recent
worldwide (human-aided) dispersal .Therefore, studies that have previously been
conducted on the exploitation of lagomorphs by Palaeolithic populations outside
of the Iberian Peninsula deal with the exploitation of hares, and not rabbits (e.g.
Stiner et al. 2000). Rabbits and hares exhibit significant behavioural differences,
which would have important implications on the ease with which they can be
captured. Rabbits are usually much smaller than hares and live in underground
burrows or warrens instead of in simple nests above ground, making them much
easier to trap. Traditional methods to hunt rabbits have involved either the block-
ing of all but one of the entrances to the burrows, or by smoking them out. Their
methods of avoiding predators are also significantly different – while the rabbit
tends to freeze and observe or hides in dense vegetation when confronted with a
threat, the hare more commonly tries to outrun its predators, again making the
hare much more difficult to capture. The rabbit also gives birth to blind, naked
and thus vulnerable young in underground burrows, while newborn hares are
born aboveground, with fur and opened eyes, making them much more capable
of fending for themselves from a much earlier age. It is clear from this that
results on the Palaeolithic exploitation of hares in other regions cannot be directly
correlated with the difficulty or ease of capturing rabbits in Iberia.
Figure 10.2 shows the distribution of rabbit skeletal parts reported by Brown
(2009) for both Mousterian and Solutrean levels. Brown (2009) reported a bias
towards a “lower-limb” assemblage, with a higher proportion of lower limb
bones than upper limb bones present. The observed and expected values for
each limb element were calculated and compared (c² [Solutrean] = 119.9,
P < 0.0001; c² [Mousterian] = 76.4, P < 0.0001), indicating that the apparent
biases in skeletal part representation within levels were not created at random,
and a taphonomic agent was therefore responsible for this accumulation.
Detailed analysis of a sample of the rabbit bones from both Mousterian and
Solutrean Levels at Gorham’s Cave (Brown 2009; in press) showed that such a
large proportion of rabbits within the cave could not be explained by natural
accumulation alone, and the negligible presence of taphonomic traces attributable
to carnivores or birds of prey strongly suggested that the accumulating agent at
this site was human.
Although both Solutrean and Mousterian assemblages can be attributed to
human predation, it appears that the hunting strategies and processing methods
varied significantly across the archaeological horizons. The Mousterian assem-
blage was dominated by juvenile individuals, whereas in the Solutrean it was by
adults. However, both assemblages were found to be dominated by lower limb
elements, which would suggest a predator accumulation, as equal proportions of
paired elements would be expected in natural accumulations, therefore indicating
that an accumulating agent was also responsible for the Mousterian assemblage.
125
LEVEL III LEVEL IV

100
75
50
25
0
HUMERUS ULNA RADIUS FEMUR TIBIA
Fig. 10.2 Comparison of skeletal part frequencies of rabbit limb elements from the Solutrean (III)
and Mousterian (IV) Levels (Brown, in press)
258 K. Brown et al.
This was further substantiated by the extensive fragmentation of the rabbit limb
elements across archaeological horizons and the abundance of spiral fractures.
These, taken together with the absence of significant traces of non-human preda-
tion on bone elements, are attributed to human predation (sensu Perez-Ripoll
1992), particularly as a result of the exploitation of marrow content from the
bones. However, whereas both assemblages were highly fragmented, dominated
by epiphyses and shaft fragments, this was much more pronounced in the
Solutrean level, again possibly for marrow extraction.
(b) Birds. The elevated number of bird species found in Gorham’s Cave (compared to
other taxa) is probably due to Gibraltar’s position within an important migratory
route for birds between Africa and Europe, a situation that persisted throughout
the Pleistocene. This is further illustrated when data from the four main Palaeolithic
sites in Gibraltar (Gorham’s Cave, Vanguard Cave, Ibex Cave and Devil’s Tower
Rock Shelter) were pooled, generating a list of 143 identified bird species, amount-
ing to a quarter of all the known bird species currently found breeding in Europe
(Brown 2009). A number of these bird species (e.g. quail Coturnix coturnix, corn-
crake Crex crex, and the larks Lullula arborea, Galerida cristata) are ground-
dwelling and/or cryptic and often tend to freeze when surprised, opting for flight
at the last minute, presenting similar behavioural responses as rabbits (Fig. 10.3).
The bird assemblage describes a typical predator assemblage, in this case
exhibiting a disproportionate amount of upper limb elements present for the
Solutrean and Mousterian periods. There are some differences in the relative
frequency of adult vs. immature birds between Levels, with the Mousterian
being dominated by adult individuals, compared with a greater abundance of
140
LEVEL III LEVEL IV
120
100
80
60
40
20
0
ID
US
NA
US
UR
US
T
TM
CM
CO
ER
UL
DI
RS
M
FE
RA
RA
TA
HU
CO
O
BI
TI
Fig. 10.3 Comparison of skeletal part frequencies of bird limb elements from the Solutrean (III)
and Mousterian (IV) Levels (Brown, in press)
juvenile birds in the Solutrean. This may be due to differences in the way these
species were exploited by different populations (see Brown, in press for further
discussion). However, there is no s ignificant correlation between archaeological
period and skeletal part frequency (c² [Solutrean] = 69.3, P < 0.0001; c²
[Mousterian] = 64.0, P < 0.0001), which would again suggest that the same agent
acted on the assemblage during both periods.
Bird assemblages were also less extensively fragmented than the rabbit
assemblages, with whole limb elements dominating. Elements which were frag-
mented showed to be predominantly spiral fractures, which would suggest
anthropic fracturing of fresh limb bones. These fragmentation patterns remain
consistent across archaeological horizons, therefore suggesting similar bird pro-
cessing techniques by Mousterian and Solutrean populations. The negligible
presence of trampling marks on the assemblage further substantiates this thesis
that the fragmentation agent was a predator and that the observed patterns were
not due to post-depositional movements or pressure.
Direct Evidence of Consumption by Hominins
Burning and cut marks are still considered unequivocal evidence for anthropic accu-
mulations (Laroulandie 2005). However, because of their small size, most small game
would not show many of the more typical taphonomic traces, such as cut marks and
extensive burning, which would be found on larger organisms (Brown 2009). Small
game, such as rabbits and birds, do not require extensive disarticulation and filleting to
cook, as would, for example, an ibex or a horse. Disarticulation of large animals would
also cause a higher proportion of bone to be exposed before cooking, in comparison
with smaller game, which would probably have been cooked whole, thus protecting
the bones from the direct heat. They would also require lower temperatures, and/or a
shorter cooking time, thus further protecting the bones from changes due to burning.
Given the above-mentioned observations, it is not surprising that Brown (2009)
noted that less than 1% of the bird and rabbit bones analysed at each Level showed
cut marks. Significantly, a bird bone (Rock Dove Columba livia humerus) found
within the sample taken from the Mousterian level was found to present evidence
of burning while still fleshed (Fig. 10.4).
Evidence for Use of Marine Resources
There is an increasing number of publications citing evidence of exploitation

of intertidal marine resources by Neanderthals in the Mediterranean (Stiner
1994; Stiner et al. 1999, 2000; Stringer et al. 2000; Bailey and Flemming
2008) and the Portuguese Atlantic coast (Bicho and Haws 2008). Unfortunately,
eustatic fluctuations during glacial cycles have meant that most prehistoric
coastlines are now underwater, and therefore lack of evidence to date of a close
260 K. Brown et al.
Fig. 10.4 A humerus of a Rock Dove (Columba livia) that was burnt while still fleshed. Note the
slight change of colour and deep fissures as indicated by the arrow (Brown, in press)
relationship between people and the coast can be most plausibly ascribed to
the limited studies so far on submerged sites (Bailey and Flemming 2008;
Fa 2008).
As for terrestrial small game, there still is no established consensus as to the
dietary contribution of marine molluscs to early human subsistence economies.
Although they are an accessible and predictable food resource (Bailey 1975, 1978,
1983; Fa 2008), their perceived importance ranges from that of a casual food item
of minor dietary value (Coles 1971; Bailey 1975), through the notion of their use
as a “protein staple” when other meats were in short supply (Yesner 1980;
Erlandson 1988, 1994), to the suggestion that they contributed significantly to the
diets of coastal populations, at least seasonally (Meighan 1969; Shawcross 1970;
Clark 1971; Stiner et al. 2003). Certainly, differing collection methods and inherent
biases in these have not helped to clarify matters (Bailey 1975). Some authors have
argued that diets based on marine foods would lead to protein poisoning (e.g.
Yesner 1987), but Fa (2008) has highlighted how such debates, by tending to focus
too much attention on the marine foods themselves, invariably fail to consider that
these resources are embedded within a very heterogeneous and varied landscape
(Finlayson et al. 2007), fully capable of providing supplementary nutrients which
obviate the dangers of nutritionally deficient diets. Although useful in understanding
the implications of extreme dietary regimes, arguments based on the physiological
ill-effects of doing so are generally unrealistic. Furthermore, work on the nutri-
tional ecology of marine resources (Hockett and Haws 2003) has highlighted the
potential supplemental value of these foods beyond their direct calorific contribution.
On the basis that dietary diversity is beneficial to human health, they note that
marine foods such as shellfish are rich sources of vitamins D and E, providing
additional carbohydrates not usually available from terrestrial mammals (see
Table 10.4).
Certainly the collection of such resources, particularly on rocky shores,
(where faunal inhabitants are a readily visible, easily collectable and concen-
trated resource), is relatively inexpensive energetically, requires no particular
skills and can be undertaken by all segments of a human population (Yesner
1980; Anderson 1981; Bicho and Haws 2008; Fa 2008). This means that
exploitation of such resources could have provided “non-hunting” members of
human groups (e.g. children and the elderly) with a collectively important food
contributory function.
In Gibraltar, excavations at nearby Vanguard Cave (see Fig. 10.1) have
yielded evidence of Neanderthal exploitation of marine resources, including
mussels Mytilus spp. (Barton 2000), and most recently, additional evidence of
consumption of fish (bream – Diplodus spp.) and large marine fauna such as
monk seals (Monachus monachus) and dolphins (Delphinus delphis, Tursiops
truncatus), the former with cut marks, indicative of de-fleshing for consumption
(Stringer et al. 2008). Here we now add unpublished data to further extend the
spectrum of marine resources consumed during the Mousterian at this site to
bluefin tuna (Thunnus thynnus) and numerous sea urchins (cf. Purple sea urchin –
Paracentrotus lividus), the latter being a species easily collectable in shallow
waters and still consumed by humans in the region today. Unfortunately, the
importance of coastal areas for Neanderthals has been underplayed in compari-
son with its significance to AMHs in Africa (Klein 1999), but this situation is
slowly changing.
Further work on marine intertidal mollusc exploitation by Fa (in press), focusing
on the Mousterian and Solutrean Levels at Gorham’s Cave, reported at least 10
species of intertidal and shallow-water molluscs (Table 10.5). In both Mousterian
and Solutrean Levels, patellid limpets (Patella depressa, P. ferruginea, P. ulissipon-
ensis, P. vulgata) were found to be the dominant intertidal mollusc (Solutrean 59%,
Mousterian 56%), followed by mytilid (Mytilus galloprovincialis, M. edulis),
mussels (Solutrean 18%, Mousterian 15%), and trochid (Osilinus turbinatus,
Gibbula spp.) (topshells – Solutrean 11%, Mousterian 6%). These three rocky
intertidal species make up approximately 80% of the total of rocky littoral species
found in each Level (Fa 2008).
Moreover, although relatively scarce, the presence of shallow-water soft-sediment
species (tuberculate cockle – Acanthocardia sp., smooth/brown venus shell –
Callista chione, lucine clam – Lucina borealis, scallop – Pecten sp., thorny oyster
or spiny scallop – Spondylus gaederopus) is consistently reported by various
authors for the Mousterian in Gibraltar (Waechter 1964; Fischer 1928; Barton
2000; Fa, in press) and is therefore of significant interest as it suggests that
Neanderthal activities in the sea may have extended beyond the intertidal, as was
known to be the case in the Solutrean (Table 10.3). Unfortunately, their persistently
low representation, and on occasion, application of erroneous ecological information
262
Table 10.5 Comparison of results obtained by Fa (in press), Barton (2000), Waechter (1964) and Garrod et al. (1928) in terms of presence–absence of the
various species and genera encountered
Fa (in press) Barton Waechter, Garrod et al. Fa (in press) Waechter,
Level IV (2000) (1964) (1928) Level III (1964)
Common name Species Mousterian Mousterian Mousterian Mousterian Solutrean Solutrean
Tuberculate cockle Acanthocardia cf. * * *
tuberculatum
Saddle Oyster Anomia sp. *
Smooth/Brown venus Callista chione *
Cockle clam Cardita calyculata *
Striped venus shell Chamelea sp. *
Triton/Trumpet shell Charonia nodifera *
Dirty cowrie Cypraea spurca *
Keyhole limpet Fissurella sp. *
Flat/Purple topshell Gibbula sp. *
Mediterranean dog cockle Glycimeris bimaculata *
Yellow/Flat periwinkle Littorina obtusata * * * *
Rough periwinkle Littorina saxatilis * *
Lucine clam Lucina borealis *
Horse mussel Modiolus modiolus *
Turban shell/ Osilinus * * *
Chequered topshell turbinatus
Topshell Osilinus articulatus *
Rock shells/ Muricidae (other) *
Whelks
Mediterranean and Common/ Mytilus galloprovincialis * * * * * *
Blue mussel and M. edulis
Reticulated nassa/Netted Nassarius reticulatus *
dogwhelk
Atlantic dogwhelk Nucella lapillus * * *
K. Brown et al.
Fa (in press) Barton Waechter, Garrod et al. Fa (in press) Waechter,
Level IV (2000) (1964) (1928) Level III (1964)
Common name Species Mousterian Mousterian Mousterian Mousterian Solutrean Solutrean
Blue/Rayed Mediterranean Patella caerulea * * * * *
limpet
Black-footed Patella depressa * * *
limpet (= P. intermedia)
Ribbed Patella ferruginea * * * *
Mediterranean limpet
China limpet Patella ulissiponensis *
Common European Patella vulgata * * * *
limpet
Pilgrim’s scallop Pecten jacobeus * *
Great or Giant scallop Pecten maximus * * *
Mediterranean bonnet shell Semicassis undulata *
False limpet Siphonaria pectinata *
Thorny oyster or Spinous Spondylus gaederopus *
scallop
Red-mouthed rock shell Stramonita haemastoma * *
European/Spotted/Bean Trivia monacha *
cowrie
Calico clam Venerupis decussata *
Total no. of species 10 5 6 8 22 13
Common names are included so as to facilitate cross-referencing with other works (Fa, in press)
10 Small Game and Marine Resource Exploitation by Neanderthals
263
264 K. Brown et al.
(e.g. Fernández-Jalvo and Andrews 2000) have led to their not being considered as
having been collected for consumption.
An analysis of the relative proportions of the main intertidal molluscs found in
both Mousterian and Solutrean Levels from Gorham’s Cave (Fa, in press) suggests
that the mode of exploitation of this resource remained essentially unchanged
between the archaeological horizons occupied by the Neanderthals and subsequent
AMHs (Spearman’s Correlation Coefficient = 0.901, P < 0.01, R2 = 0.98), with no
statistically significant differences being found between the relative proportions in
the main species collected (Mann–Whitney U = 39, P = 0.93; Kruskal–Wallis
c2 = 0.018, P = 0.89).
Discussion
The data from Gorham’s and Vanguard Caves are providing compelling evidence
for a model of Palaeolithic human subsistence strategies which places both
Neanderthals and AMHs firmly within an ecosystem-based, biogeographic and
climatic framework.
The palynological work carried out to date has reliably demonstrated the main-
tenance of a highly diverse, small-scale mosaic of habitat patches in the topographi-
cally heterogeneous area surrounding Gibraltar, both throughout most of MIS 3 and
the subsequent MIS 2, albeit for a short period of intense climatic deterioration
during 22,500 and 25,000 RCYBP (Jimenez-Espejo et al. 2007), which happens to
coincide with the disappearance of Neanderthals from the area.
The long-term stability of this region, providing mild Mediterranean bioclimatic
conditions that strayed little beyond the range covered by thermo- and
meso-Mediterranean thermotypes and subhumid and dry ombrotypes (Finlayson
2006), allowed Neanderthals to pursue a way of life that remained virtually unchanged
for many thousands of years. The re-establishment of similar conditions during the
subsequent MIS 2 (Finlayson et al. 2007) allowed the later inhabitants of the region,
AMHs with Solutrean technologies, to adopt very similar subsistence strategies.
Evidence from Terrestrial Small Game
For the rabbits, the results indicated assemblages biased towards the lower limb
elements in both the Solutrean and Mousterian periods. There was a significant
difference between the upper and lower limb representation, suggesting that the
assemblage was accumulated by a predator, and not at random. This difference is
much more pronounced during the Solutrean than the Mousterian periods, which
might suggest that other factors may have also acted on the assemblage. One
possible scenario is different processing strategies of rabbit carcasses by Solutrean
and Mousterian populations. It is possible that Solutrean populations actively
exploited the marrow content of rabbits, more so than occurred in the Mousterian,
and thus favoured the lower limbs.
With regard to birds, the results suggested a strong and significant association
between human occupations and the presence of game birds, ducks, and waders, all
of which are potential food types, which are still consumed today. Most significant,
however, is the association between hominin occupations and ground-dwelling,
skulking, cryptic birds. Birds such as the quail, corncrake, and the larks, although
unrelated, all have physical and behavioural similarities. Whereas other species
might take flight when threatened, these ground birds freeze, using their cryptic
plumage to blend into the background. The over-abundance of these species in
association with hominin occupations, particularly during the Middle and Upper
Palaeolithic, and not with predatory bird assemblages, could suggest a specific
bird-catching strategy by Palaeolithic populations, taking advantage of the
behavioural traits of certain species.
Brown (2009) draws two main conclusions:
(1) There appears to have been a close relationship between particular bird species
(such as the quail, ducks or pigeons) and human populations throughout Europe
in the later Pleistocene, (which could be related to consumption or even to the
production of secondary products, such as clothing and symbolism), and a
consistent under-representation of predatory bird species in sites associated
with hominin occupation.
(2) In the case of Gorham’s Cave, Neanderthals do not appear to exhibit subsis-
tence behaviours that are any different from those of the succeeding Solutrean
populations, as no significant statistical differences could be distinguished
between the two.
A number of authors have suggested approaches to the analysis of small game
remains that may provide avenues for future work. For example, Laroulandie
(2005), working on bird bones, noted that a light squashing or hole is created on
the distal end of humeri at the level of the fossa olecrani, as the olecranon of the
ulna penetrates through the fossa olecrani during the disarticulation of the elbow
by over-extension, a taphonomic trace that would most likely be overlooked by
most analysts as indicative of human predation on birds, yet singularly
diagnostic. It would require a degree of ambidexterity to be able to disarticulate
a joint by over-extending it, a feat that only humans would be capable of, and
therefore any bird remains with such diagnostic modifications could be ascribed
to anthropic action. It is intended to revisit the rabbit and bird material from
Gorham’s Cave to establish whether these evidences are indeed present in the
samples studied.
Evidence from Marine Molluscs
Although the sample size from Mousterian deposits was comparatively small
compared with the Solutrean (due to the larger volume of excavated deposits for the
latter), the results obtained suggest that intertidal and shallow-water marine molluscs
were collected for consumption by both the Neanderthal and AMH occupants of
266 K. Brown et al.
Gorham’s Cave in proportionally equal amounts during both MIS 3 and 2. The almost
total absence of other, naturally superabundant, intertidal species (e.g. littorinids)
and the close correspondence between present-day densities of intertidal rocky-
shore molluscs (Fa 1998) and their representation in these archaeological deposits
are indicative that human coastal foragers exploited their environment in a manner
proportional to prey abundance and availability (Fa, in press).
The main prey items were limpets, mussels and topshells which are consistent
with data from other nearby sites such as the Portuguese coast (Bicho and Haws
2008) or the Spanish Mediterranean coast of Málaga (Cortés-Sánchez et al. 2008),
although the relative contributions of the three vary, most probably due to local
differences in availability. Although such resources have often been considered
marginal due to their low energetic contribution per prey item, such statements need
to be considered with regard to a number of caveats (Bicho and Haws 2008; Fa
2008) which include:
(1) Collection and processing costs (which vary between species depending on
collecting strategy, on or off-site processing, ability to “keep” for extended
periods, etc.).
(2) Nutritional (as different to energetic) value – e.g. marine molluscs provide
comparable protein and fat content to terrestrial resources and moreover can
provide carbohydrates, trace minerals and vitamins not easily obtained from
other foods.
(3) Energetic trade-offs with regard to risk (cost-benefit) and the fact that these
resources can be collected by all group members, including children and the
elderly.
Fa (2008) proposed that if trends in use of these and other marine resources could
be used as a barometer of demographic changes, the close similarities between the
results obtained at both Mousterian and Solutrean Levels at Gorham’s Cave would
suggest (assuming limited changes due to environmental variations) that both groups
of humans were following the same fundamental subsistence strategy at this site.
Further excavations, especially in the Mousterian Level of Gorham’s Cave, will
doubtlessly help to develop some of the ideas presented here.
Conclusions
Although stone tools can tell us a great amount about the organisation of technology
and those all important long-term survival strategies, they cannot tell us much about
either intelligence or potential (Gamble 1993:179). Some 50,000 years ago, a
massive colonisation of new environments by some members of the genus Homo
set off a train of events that led to the development of new behaviours to cope with
and exploit these new opportunities (Burke 2004; Finlayson 2004). These “modern”
behaviours therefore need to be seen as a consequence of this process rather than
as its cause (Gamble 1993).
Rather than the rapid cultural, cognitive and/or biological transition usually
argued by proponents of the Upper Palaeolithic Revolution, a revision of existing
evidence suggests that the apparent revolutionary nature of the European Upper
Palaeolithic is more likely due to archaeological discontinuities, mislabelling of
phases, layers and time periods, and the dogmatic application of an unsubstantiated
view that holds our own species as de facto superior over all other contemporary
human populations (Brown 2009).
We propose that Gibraltar offered optimal climatic and foraging conditions
for both Neanderthals and Anatomically Modern Humans, during the Middle
and Upper Palaeolithic, and thus it was not a coincidence that Gorham’s Cave
saw the last surviving Neanderthal populations. Palaeobotanic and faunistic
environmental reconstructions indicate that Gibraltar offered a highly diverse,
mosaic landscape, with a large array of resources available for exploitation.
The Neanderthal p opulations which inhabited this landscape took advantage
of this diversity, enjoying a much broader diet than has previously been reported
for contemporary populations throughout Eurasia, which included small game
such as birds and rabbits (previously only reported for Upper Palaeolithic popula-
tions) and marine intertidal/shallow-water foods such as limpets, bivalves (mussels,
cockles, scallops), sea-urchins, as well as larger prey items including fish (bream,
tuna), monk seals and dolphins.
The evidence from Gorham’s and Vanguard Caves suggests that, given simi-
lar bioclimatic conditions and surrounding environments, both Middle
Palaeolithic Neanderthals and subsequent AMHs exploited their environments in
very similar ways, i.e., people really did just “eat what was there” (Bar-Yosef
2004; Finlayson 2004). Although there are some differences in the processing of
terrestrial small game, there is no evidence of marked changes in subsistence
strategies between the two groups which could be taken as indicative of signifi-
cant cognitive differences or behavioural practices. This result reinforces the
view that human behaviours during the periods studied were most likely condi-
tioned by the environment they were in and therefore would have varied geo-
graphically, even within the same species (Finlayson 2004). It moreover
highlights the dangers involved in ascribing behavioural, cultural, and by exten-
sion, cognitive associations to the entirety of human groups across entire geo-
graphical regions based on evidences from selected sites from distinct
biogeographical areas. In other parts of their range, Neanderthals and AMHs
may have been doing different things; in Gibraltar, they continued doing the
same. Existing models and hypotheses concerning these groups, and indeed sub-
groups within each, need to be considered within the context of the environment
within which they are situated and the resources available to them at the time.
The “one size fits all” paradigm needs to be revisited, and if necessary, dis-
carded. We contend that a more local emphasis (concomitant with the limited
spatiotemporal scales of operation and information networks available to these
groups) is the only way to objectively analyse the Palaeolithic behavioural
strategies of these people.
268 K. Brown et al.
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Chapter 11
Prying New Meaning from Limpet Harvesting
at Vale Boi During the Upper Paleolithic
Tiina Manne and Nuno F. Bicho
Introduction
The late Pleistocene record for human exploitation of marine resources is generally
accepted as being underrepresented world-wide. The global lowering of sea levels
during the last glacial maximum (LGM) extended coastlines, presumably causing
much of the evidence for coastal living from that period to be inundated today. The
southern coast of Iberia is no exception, having a gently sloping, submerged conti-
nental shelf along much of its coastline. During the LGM, this continental shelf would
have been partially exposed, with the coastal shore lying a considerable distance south
of where it is today. This set of circumstances has no doubt contributed to the lack of
known Upper Paleolithic coastal sites in southern Iberia containing records of marine
exploitation. However, two key southern Iberian sites provide evidence of long-term
marine resource use in this region: Cueva de Nerja and Vale Boi. The southeastern
Spanish site of Cueva de Nerja is known for its record of marine fish and shellfish
exploitation beginning in the Solutrean (Cortés-Sánchez et al. 2008; Jorda 1986;
Morales and Rosello 2008; Serrano et al. 1995). Now the Portuguese site of Vale Boi
significantly adds to the evidence of long-term utilization of coastal resources, with its
record of marine resource exploitation beginning in the Gravettian.
The recently discovered site of Vale Boi is located in the Algarve region of
southwestern Portugal (Fig. 11.1). Today, the site lies less than 2.5 km inland from
the present day coastline and is located on the eastern side of a small river valley
that runs south to the Atlantic Ocean (Bicho et al. 2003). Containing both open-air
and rockshelter components, it is situated on a wide, gentle slope below a low
limestone ridge (Fig. 11.2). The site extends downslope from the ridge for approxi-
mately 80m. Intensive excavations of the site began in 2000 and continue to the
T. Manne (*)
Department of Anthropology, University of Arizona, Building 30, Tucson,
AZ 85731-0030, USA
Fig. 11.1 Map of southern Portugal with the location of Vale Boi
Fig. 11.2 Photograph of the east slope. Vale Boi extends 80 m along the slope, down from the white,
limestone ridge at the top
11 Prying New Meaning from Limpet Harvesting at Vale Boi 275
Fig. 11.3 Profile of the Vale Boi site
present, with the focus on three main areas: a flat terrace at the bottom of the slope
situated 10 m above the river bed; two areas on the mid-slope region; and a flat area
below the ridge that is partially covered by limestone blocks from the collapsed
roof of a rockshelter (Fig. 11.3).
Vale Boi is unique in southern Portugal due to its antiquity and long cultural
record that spans three culture periods: the Gravettian, Solutrean, and Magdalenian.
The earliest AMS radiocarbon date from Vale Boi is for the Early Gravettian at
27,720 ± 370 RCYBP. The majority of excavated material is from the Gravettian
and Solutrean deposits, with the Magdalenian deposits being relatively limited.
Excavations have revealed numerous lithic artifacts, including burins, endscrapers,
and projectile points, along with bone artifacts, shell ornaments, and various pieces
of portable art. Preservation and recovery of both marine shellfish and terrestrial
animal remains is good, exemplified by the occurrence of aurochs bones and fragile
skeletal material from neonate and fetal deer and horse.
This article provides an overview of the Vale Boi faunal assemblage. However,
the main purpose of this chapter is to highlight the marine fauna assemblage at Vale
Boi, with a particular emphasis on its most abundant type, the limpet (Patella sp.).
Southwestern Iberia is ecologically distinctive for its juxtaposition of rich Atlantic
and Mediterranean marine communities, a set of circumstances which is reflected
in the variety of limpet species inhabiting its shores. A short introduction to limpet
ecology and behavior is presented in order to understand the nature of limpet preda-
tion by humans. Of particular interest in this study are the nutritional benefits to be
gained from limpet consumption and the importance they may have held in the diets
of foragers, particularly women and children.
Terrestrial Fauna
At Vale Boi, ungulates and rabbits are the key components of the fauna assemblage
and the main economic activities appear to have been centered on the exploitation
of terrestrial resources (Table 11.1) (Manne and Bicho 2009). The Gravettian and
276 T. Manne and N.F. Bicho
Table 11.1 NISP values of Vale Boi mammalian and avian fauna

Gravettian Solutrean Magdalenian
NISP % NISP NISP % NISP NISP % NISP
Mammals
Bos primigenius 24 0.48 79 1.37 4 0.52
Equus caballus 161 3.24 901 15.62 48 6.27
Equus sp.a 16 0.32 54 0.94
Cervus elaphus 732 14.74 1,788 30.99 211 27.58
Capra/Ovis 4 0.08 9 0.16
Sus scrofa 1 0.02 2 0.03
Vulpes vulpes 11 0.22 5 0.09 6 0.78
Canis lupus 4 0.08 4 0.07
Panthera leo 4 0.08 1 0.02
Lynx pardina 11 0.22 5 0.09 2 0.26
Oryctolagus 3,995 80.45 2,916 50.54 494 64.58
cuniculus
Cetacea 1 0.02
Aves
Aquila chrysaetos 1 0.02
Small sized bird 2 0.04 1 0.02
Medium sized bird 2 0.04 3 0.05
Large sized bird 1 0.02
Totals 4,966 5,770 765
a
Possibly the wild ass, Equus hydruntinus
Solutrean periods are well represented in the terrestrial faunal assemblage (n = 4,966
and n = 5,770 respectively), whereas the assemblage for the Magdalenian is consid-
erably smaller, with only 765 identified specimens. Based on the number of identi-
fiable specimens (NISP), rabbit (Oryctolagus cuniculus) is the dominant terrestrial
species throughout all three cultural periods at Vale Boi. During the Gravettian
rabbit NISP comprises 80% of the assemblage. Its dominance declines during
the Solutrean to 51 %NISP, but then increases again to 65 %NISP of the total
Magdalenian assemblage. Red deer (Cervus elaphus) composes 15 %NISP of
the Gravettian assemblage, but its presence increases to 31 %NISP during the
Solutrean and 28 %NISP during the Magdalenian. Horse (Equus sp.) is only present
as 3 %NISP of the total Gravettian assemblage, but increases during the Solutrean
to 16 %NISP. During the Magdalenian, horse composes only 6 %NISP of the total
assemblage. Both the red deer and horse assemblages contain fetal and neonate
individuals. Apart from these specimens, the assemblage is composed of fully
adult individuals. The presence of these very immature animals suggests that
humans were hunting herds of maternal deer and small herds of horse during the
late spring.
In addition to the rabbit, red deer and horse, small numbers of aurochs, wild ass
(possibly Equus hydruntinus), ibex, and wild pig are present. Skeletal remains of
lion, wolf, fox, and Iberian lynx occur in small quantities. In addition to the mamma-
lian fauna, a minor quantity of bird bones have been recovered from the Solutrean
and Gravettian periods, including part of the proximal femur of a golden eagle
(Aquila chrysaetos). Very little carnivore damage occurs on the bones, and the faunal
accumulations appear to be largely, if not wholly the result of human activity
(Manne and Bicho 2009).
The highly fractured, yet well-preserved nature of the ungulate assemblage,
suggests that the bones were subjected to marrow processing and bone-grease
rendering (Manne and Bicho 2009; Manne et al. 2005; Stiner et al. 2003). Bone-
grease rendering is a labor-intensive process in which the spongy bones from ungu-
late limb ends and vertebrae are fragmented. Bone-grease is liberated by placing
the fragments into water and dropping heated stones into the mixture. As the grease
rises to the top, the relatively pure-layers of fat can be removed and stored. Bone-
grease rendering frequently produces archaeological assemblages where there is a
higher preservation of elements with reduced bone-grease values (Binford 1978;
Brink 1997; Lupo and Schmitt 1997; Munro and Bar-Oz 2005; Stiner 2002; Vehik
1977). The spongy ends of the humeri, femur, and tibia are particularly rich in both
saturated and unsaturated fats and theoretically should be underrepresented (in
addition to vertebrae) in assemblages that have been subject to bone-grease rendering
as the result of preferential crushing. Analysis of the Vale Boi ungulate assemblage
indicates that long bone ends and axial elements rich in bone-grease were indeed
being systematically exploited (Manne and Bicho 2009). Diagnostic bone modifi-
cations resulting from grease rendering, such as localized crushing and impact
fractures, are present in the Vale Boi assemblage in high frequencies (18% of total
NISP). In addition to these zooarchaeological signals of grease-rendering, heavy
hammerstones, heavily pitted stone-anvils and large quantities of fire-cracked
quartz rock are present at Vale Boi (Manne and Bicho 2009). Over 400 kg of poor-
quality quartz has been excavated at Vale Boi, all of which was transported on to
the site from a nearby outside source.
Marine Fauna
The marine shellfish assemblage though small, is an important element of the Vale
Boi site. It has the earliest date for economic shellfish remains deposited by modern
humans in southern Portugal and clearly indicates that marine resource exploitation
was underway in this region by the Gravettian, if not earlier. The close location of
Vale Boi to the coast allowed humans to take advantage of not only terrestrial animals,
but also access the nutritional benefits of marine resources.
The minimum number of individuals (MNI) for shellfish was based on number
of umbos for bivalves (N/2 = MNI) and the number of apexes for limpets.
Measurements of intact limpets were recorded at the maximum dimension of the
shell. Over 75% of the shell that could be identified to limpet was fragmented
and as such, could only be designated as Patella sp. and not to species. It is likely
that these limpets include the temperate, subtropical species Patella intermedia;
(Fig. 11.4) Murray in Knapp, 1857 (synonyms Patella depressa Pennant, 1777),
Fig. 11.4 Modern Patella intermedia attached to substrate in southwestern Iberia
Patella rustica Linnaeus, 1758 (synonyms Patella lusitanica Gmelin, 1791), and Patella
ulyssiponensis Gmelin, 1791 (synonyms Patella aspera Röding, 1798; P. aspera
Lamarck, 1819; Patella athletica Bean, 1844), along with the boreal species,
Patella vulgata Linnaeus, 1758. It is possible that the Mediterranean species Patella
caerulea (Linnaeus, 1758) may also be present.
Marine remains at Vale Boi comprise of shellfish, one fish vertebra and a single
centrum of a vertebra from a small cetacean. The cetacean vertebra is from the
Gravettian period and as there are no other cetacean remains, it is difficult to
directly relate it to human economic activities, as it may have been picked up from
the shore. There is a marked decrease in the total amount of shellfish found in
the Solutrean period compared to the Gravettian (Table 11.2). The total shellfish
MNI for the Gravettian is 1,053, compared to 484 for the Solutrean and 4 for
the Magdalenian. As the Magdalenian deposits on the whole are quite marginal at
Vale Boi, the presence of shellfish is best viewed as a sign that marine resources
were still being utilized during the Magdalenian, rather than an indication of an
economic trend of decreased shellfish consumption.
The vast majority (94 %MNI) of shellfish remains at Vale Boi are from limpet,
a rocky shore inhabitant. The remaining shellfish remains are from species inhabiting
Table 11.2 NISP and MNI values of Vale Boi economic marine shellfish
Gravettian Solutrean Magdalenian
Species Habitat NISP MNI %MNI NISP MNI %MNI NISP MNI %MNI
Mytilus sp. r 76 12 1.1 259 25 5.1
Pecten maximus s 22 2 0.2 32 3 0.6
Acanthocardia sp. s/m/g 11 3 0.6
Cerastoderma edule s/m 1 1 0.1 228 11 2.2 3 1 25
Callista chione s 1 1 0.1
Ruditapes decussatus s/m/g 37 5 0.5 30 5 1.0
Veneridae s/m/g 4 1 0.1 9 2 0.4
Patella sp. r 8,134 1,025 97.2 2,875 437 89.2 142 3 75
Monodonta lineata r 1 1 0.2
Nucella lapillus r 1 1 0.1
Thais haemastoma r 2 1 0.1
11 Prying New Meaning from Limpet Harvesting at Vale Boi
Cerithiidae s 2 1 0.1
Naticidae s/m/g 3 1 0.1
Pollicipes pollicipes r 3 2 0.2
Totals 8,286 1,053 3,445 487 145 4
Habitat type: r = rocky; s = sandy; m = muddy; g = gravel
279
rocky, sandy and muddy environments (Table 11.2). The types of species exploited
during the Gravettian and Solutrean periods remain quite similar, suggesting that
similar types of coastal environments were available for resource exploitation
during both cultural periods, despite changes in sea levels. In fact, the dominance
of shellfish in the assemblage that were exploited from rocky shores, with the addition
of minor amounts of shellfish from sandy and estuarine environments, reveals a
similar blend of habitats to what are found in coastal southwestern Portugal today.
In addition to the economic species represented in Table 11.2, species that were
used as ornaments, such as periwinkle (Littorina obtusata and Littorina mariae),
cowrie (Trivia sp.), and dentalium have also been recovered from excavations at
Vale Boi (Stiner pers. comm.). The abraded condition of some fragments of the
great scallop Pecten maximus is also quite different from the rest of the economic
assemblage, suggesting that they were picked up from the shore and not used as
food (Bicho and Stiner 2006).
Only 3 %NISP (n = 354) of the total shellfish assemblage is burned, with the
majority of burned shell fragments being limpet (n = 308), followed by mussel
(Mytilus sp., n = 26), great scallop (Pecten maximus, n = 9), checkered carpet shell
(Ruditapes decussatus, n = 9), and common cockle (Cerastoderma edule, n = 1).
However, the incidence of burning is higher on mussels (8 %NISP) than limpets
(3 %NISP). When examining the maximum length of limpets, there is only a slight
decrease in size from 36 mm during the Gravettian (n = 257) to 34 mm during the
Solutrean (n = 108). Only nine limpets had lengths greater than 50 mm with 55 mm
being the maximum length recorded.
The decrease in shellfish numbers between the Gravettian and Solutrean is likely
to be a result of changing coastline dynamics, as sea levels fell during the LGM.
Bathymetric maps off southern Portugal indicate a drowned coastal plain (Fig. 11.5).
Though an understanding of sea level change in this region is complicated by the
active tectonics of the region, it is likely that this plain was exposed during the
Fig. 11.5 Bathymetric map indicating drowned continental shelf off the coast of southwestern
Iberia (cartographic base made by Joaquim Luís, Universidade do Algarve)
Fig. 11.6 % Count of terrestrial and marine resources. Terrestrial % count based on NISP and
marine % count based on MNI
LGM, when global sea levels dropped up to −130 m. During the height of the LGM,
the coastline was not more than 20 km away from Vale Boi (Bicho 2004; Bicho and
Haws 2008). During the Solutrean, activities at Vale Boi appear to become increas-
ingly focused on the exploitation of terrestrial resources (Fig. 11.6), as the distance
to the shoreline increased and it became less feasible to bring back shellfish.
Limpet Productivity and Exploitation
The western coast of Portugal is rich in marine resources largely due to the coastal
upwelling that occurs a short distance offshore. Coastal upwelling brings cold,
nutrient-rich waters up from the deep ocean, replenishing warm, nutrient-depleted
waters at the surface. It is estimated that 80–90% of new ocean productivity occurs
in these coastal upwelling zones, areas that comprise only 10% of the worlds’
oceans (Abrantes 2000). Diatom records recovered from ocean cores are able to
indicate fluctuations in past ocean productivity. These records demonstrate that the
greatest productivity seen in oceans through the last 200,000 years, occurred during
the LGM (Abrantes 2000). Diatom records recovered off the Atlantic coast of
Portugal indicate a boost of productivity during the LGM of one order in magnitude
greater than seen today (Abrantes 2000).
Though the relationship of bottom-up effects in marine food chains are complex
and unresolved, there is evidence suggesting intertidal grazers such as limpets,
benefit from coastal upwelling (Menge 2000). Correlations between increased
nutrients from coastal upwelling and increased productivity of intertidal grazers on
rocky shores have been documented in several areas of the world, including
Oregon, New Zealand, South Africa, and the Canary Islands off Northwest Africa
(Bustamante et al. 1995; Menge 2000; Tuya et al. 2006). In South Africa, the
limpet Patella granularis, was found in greater numbers and larger physical sizes
in areas adjacent to upwelling (Bustamante et al. 1995). The increased productivity
in P. granularis is attributed to the high in-situ primary productivity of algae that
are benefiting from the nutrient upwelling.
In the Northeast Atlantic, limpets are considered fundamental to intertidal

ecosystems, where they control the growth of algae through grazing (Coleman et al.
2006). Limpets are found abundantly along the Portuguese coast in exposed to
moderately exposed environments as either solitary individuals or in loosely aggre-
gated groups (Boaventura et al. 2002; Guerra and Gaudencio 1986). During the
LGM, when the intensity of nutrient upwelling increased (Abrantes 2000), it is
highly likely that intertidal communities benefitted from the increased flow of
nutrients to shore. Primary productivity of algal communities would have been
boosted, resulting in better forage for limpet communities. Southwestern Portugal
is likely to have served as an excellent habitat for limpets, an area with good expo-
sure, abundant grazing opportunities and water temperatures suitable for supporting
a variety of limpet species.
Limpets are an attractive food source, since they are highly visible in the intertidal.
However, due to their visibility to potential predators, limpets have evolved an
excellent defense mechanism: they have an exceptional ability to grasp or clamp to
the substratum. Limpets are considered to have the greatest tenacity in the entire
gastropod group (Grenon and Walker 1981). The aggregating behavior of limpets
at first glance, would seem to be a beneficial behavior for a predator, reducing
the time needed for searching out additional prey. However, research suggests
that limpet aggregation appears to be a helpful mechanism against predation.
The clamping behavior of a limpet can be initiated when a vibration is detected
within a 0.32-m radius of the limpet (Coleman et al. 2004). Thus a limpet in a
closely aggregated group is able to perceive an attack on another limpet within its
group through vibrations, causing it to clamp down onto the substratum. Though
limpets are best collected when they are unaware of a potential predator, experi-
ments carried out on understanding the best angles to detach a limpet have shown
that a shear pull, where the limpet is removed in a peeling action is the most
efficient (Grenon and Walker 1981).
Foraging costs of limpet harvesting are somewhat significant for humans and thus
it is interesting to observe when in the Paleolithic they first emerge as an important
food source. P. vulgata is particularly abundant in archaeological shell deposits in
northern Spain, from the Solutrean through to the early Holocene (Bailey and
Craighead 2003; Clark 1971; Craighead 1999). The presence of large shell middens
on the Cantabrian coast in northern Spain and along the coast of southern Portugal
during the terminal Pleistocene and early Holocene, indicate that humans developed
an effective technique to remove limpets in large numbers by this time (Bailey and
Craighead 2003; Dean and Faustino-Carvalho 2011; Stiner et al. 2003).
Once limpets have been removed from the substratum, they are relatively easily
consumed. The small percentage of burnt shell at Vale Boi (3%) is not unusual,
when considering that the majority of the assemblage is composed of limpet, a spe-
cies that needs neither heating nor cooking in order to be removed from its shell.
All but five fragments of burned shell were located from a section on the mid-slope
that has been interpreted as an ash dump. A possible explanation for the burned
limpets is that after the removal of the flesh, the empty shell was tossed into a
hearth and then later dumped with the rest of the hearth material.
Nutritional Benefits of Limpets
Marine shellfish contain long chain polyunsaturated fats (LCPUFA) that are important
to the human diet, particularly to pregnant and nursing women (Broadhurst et al.
2002; Uauy and Dangour 2006). The most beneficial of the LCPUFA are within the
Omega 3 and Omega 6 series and are known as docosahexaenoic acid (DHA) and
arachidonic acid (AA or ARA). DHA and AA both contribute to the growth and
development of brain tissue and vascular tissue (Broadhurst et al. 2002). Although
small quantities of AA and DHA may be synthesized from short-chain polyunsatu-
rates (linoleic acid and alpha-linolenic acid), humans and other mammals are rela-
tively inefficient in carrying out this conversion (Broadhurst et al. 2002; Jensen
2006; Milligan and Bazinet 2008). Instead, most AA and DHA needs to be introduced
to the body directly, rather than through synthesis of short-chain polyunsaturates.
DHA and AA are found in foods such as fish, shellfish, egg yolk, organ and muscle
meat, bone marrow and in the case of AA, nuts, grains, and pulses (Broadhurst
et al. 2002; Howe et al. 2007; Milligan and Bazinet 2008). Some marine shellfish
can thus serve as either a seasonal additive to existing sources or as important
contributors when terrestrial sources of these LCPUFA are not available.
While DHA is deemed more beneficial for pregnant women, infants, and human
health in general, AA is also considered to be invaluable for the growth of vascular
tissue during fetal and postnatal periods (Arterburn et al. 2006; Mozaffarian et al.
2005; Uauy and Dangour 2006). This is particularly the case during the third tri-
mester and the 4 months following birth, when brain and visual development
increases the need for DHA and AA fatty acids (Clandinin 1999; Uauy and
Dangour 2006). Research indicates that while increased consumption of foods
containing DHA and AA may increase the availability of these fatty acids to the
fetus and new born, much of the essential fatty acids needed for brain and retinal
development appears to originate from existing adipose stores of the mother
(Arterburn et al. 2006). This suggests that pregnant (and nursing) women not only
should increase the amount of LCPUFA in their diet during the third trimester, but
that pregnant women should proceed this period by a sustained consumption of
DHA and AA-rich substances, allowing for the storage of these fatty acids in their
adipose tissue. Fetuses and new born babies are able to synthesize short-chain poly-
unsaturated fatty acids into LCPUFA, but in only negligible amounts (Arterburn
et al. 2006). Following birth, most DHA and AA is continued to be provided by the
mother, in the form of breastmilk (Innis 2007).
Ethnographically, gathering shellfish is often cited as a task that women and
children undertake (Bliege Bird 2007; Broadhurst et al. 2002; Buchanan 1988;
Chapman 1987). When considering the sustained energetic and nutritional needs of
pregnant and lactating women, as well as of growing children, the gender roles of
shellfish harvesting take on a new significance. Shellfish not only represent a reliable
source of food that can be taken back to the camp to be shared with others, but a rich
and reliable source of essential fatty acids required for the healthy growth and develop-
ment of young children. Some shellfish, such as limpets, may be processed and eaten
in the field thus providing convenient, nutritious snacks for both children and adults.
Limpets seasonally contain considerable quantities of lipids, particularly in the

period leading up to spawning. Prior to spawning (Blackmore 1969) 30% of
P. vulgata total fatty acids consists of AA and DHA LCPUFA (Gardener and Riley
1972). Generally, marine bivalves contain a relatively high percentage of DHA –
for example, M. edulis total fatty acids consists of 12.3% DHA and 12.4% AA
(Brazão et al. 2003; Gardener and Riley 1972). Limpets however, like other proso-
branch gastropods, have relatively large quantities of AA and only small amounts
of DHA (Brazão et al. 2003; Gardener and Riley 1972). For example in P. vulgata,
25.8% of total fatty acids consist of AA, while only 3.8% of total fatty acids are
DHA LCPUFA (Gardener and Riley 1972). The elevated level of AA in limpets is
attributed to their herbivorous diet of macroalgae, organisms that are rich in AA
(Brazão et al. 2003).
Lipid quantities in limpets are related to gonad development (Blackmore 1969;
Gardener and Riley 1972). Increase in lipids begins with the development of
gonads and reaches maximum quantities at gonad maturity. Once the release of
lipid-rich eggs and sperm begins during spawning, lipid quantities within limpets
begin to drop, reaching minimum levels once spawning is completed. A period
where gonads are at the neutral “resting” stage follows, until gonad development
begins again. The seasonality of spawning varies between species as well as with
water temperature, causing the timing of spawning to vary depending on latitude
(Guerra and Gaudencio 1986). For example, in northern Britain, spawning of P.
vulgata begins in August/September, whereas in Portugal, spawning starts in
December/January (Guerra and Gaudencio 1986). Some limpet species, such as P.
ulyssiponensis have an annual spawning event during autumn (August to November)
when located in southwest Ireland, but an extended period of spawning in southern
Portugal (between August and April) (Guerra and Gaudencio 1986). Other limpet
species appear to not exhibit a clear spawning period when inhabiting a zone
located in waters with a median temperature range. For example P. intermedia has
distinct spawning events in Britain (spring and sometimes late autumn) and south-
ern Portugal (late autumn through early spring) (Guerra and Gaudencio 1986).
However in central Portugal, spawning appears to occur year-round with P. inter-
media individuals in the neutral, resting stage found alongside ones with large,
mature gonads (Guerra and Gaudencio 1986).
What do we know about the timing of human occupation at Vale Boi with
respect to limpet harvesting? Based on the evidence of fetal and neonate ungu-
late remains, humans were at Vale Boi during the spring. The age cohort struc-
ture of the red deer remains suggests that hunters were targeting maternal herds.
The low altitude, warm southern exposure of the site, and the preponderance of
fetal, neonate and fully adult red deer and horse individuals suggests that the site
was used periodically during late spring and not while juveniles were maturing
in the fall.
An added complexity to assessing the timing of limpet harvesting by humans is
the seasonal spread of limpet spawning cycles. Climate changes during the Upper
Paleolithic are likely to have affected local sea-surface temperatures, causing subtle
shifts in the timing and duration of limpet gonad maturation. Past sea-surface
temperatures (SSTs) for the western coast of Portugal have been reconstructed
using data from the deep marine cores SO75-26KL and MD95-2042 (Boessenkool
et al. 2001; de Abreu et al. 2003; Pailler and Bard 2002; Sanchez-Goñi et al. 2002,
2008). Prior to the LGM, SSTs on the Portuguese margin may have been compa-
rable or slightly higher than temperatures today (Boessenkool et al. 2001; de Abreu
et al. 2003, but see also Pailler and Bard 2002), while during the LGM, SSTs appear
to have ranged between 12 and 15°C (Cayre et al. 1999; Pailler and Bard 2002;
Sanchez-Goñi et al. 2002). Palynological data from MD95-2042 suggest that ter-
restrial conditions during both the Gravettian and Solutrean culture periods were
colder and more arid than today (Roucoux et al. 2005). These conditions may also
explain the increase in Equus (and E. hydruntinus) remains at Vale Boi. The con-
tinuing cold conditions during the LGM may have lead to a local expansion of
grasslands, beneficial for grazers like the horse and wild ass. However, though
decreases in overall numbers of thermophile plants are noted at the end of MIS3
and into MIS2, stands of Quercus, Ericaceae, and Pinus continued to persist in
southwestern Portugal. This indicates that southwestern Portugal is likely to have
experienced increased moisture relative to neighboring regions, such as northwest
Portugal and southern Spain (Roucoux et al. 2005; Sanchez-Goñi et al. 2008).
Research into modern southern Iberian coastal SSTs indicates that water tem-
peratures off Cabo São Vicente (the southwestern most point of Iberia) stay cool
year-round (Vargas et al. 2003). This is particularly the case between the months
of May and November, when coastal water temperatures at Cabo São Vicente are
2–4°C colder than SSTs to either the South or East (Vargas et al. 2003). This situ-
ation of colder SSTs is a result of coastal upwelling and as mentioned above,
diatom records indicate that a significant increase in coastal upwelling occurred
during the LGM (Abrantes 2000). The increased intensity in upwelling may have
also resulted in colder coastal water temperatures than what occur today. Though
at present it is difficult to ascertain what coastal SSTs may have been like in the
past, a useful avenue of future research may be to use oxygen isotope records from
shellfish to examine regional environmental and ecological changes (Fenger et al.
2007; Mannino and Thomas 2007; Mannino et al. 2008). Recent work by Fenger
et al. (2007) indicates excellent potential for using P. vulgata shells as a proxy for
understanding both changes in sea-surface temperatures and ocean upwelling
intensity.
In any case, temperature fluctuations during the Gravettian and Solutrean culture
periods most likely meant subtle shifts in the seasonality of spawning for the various
limpet species, but a more bountiful molluskan community overall. If coastal water
temperatures were similar to what are experienced today, past and present seasonality
of spawning is likely to have been comparable. However, a drop in coastal water
temperatures may have caused some limpet species, such as P. intermedia to
undergo gonad development during spring, similarly to what is seen in more northerly
latitudes today. Other species, such as P. ulyssiponensis and P. vulgata may have
matured during autumn. This may have resulted in limpets rich in lipids being avail-
able for a good portion of the year, including the late spring, a time when we know
that Vale Boi was occupied.
Conclusion
The paucity of Upper Paleolithic shellfish assemblages in southern Iberia should

not be taken as an indication that marine resources were not an important part
of the diet in this region. The Vale Boi assemblage indicates that already by
the Gravettian, modern humans were taking advantage of nearby marine resources.
The southwest of Portugal poses an excellent habitat for limpets that prefer exposed
to moderately exposed coasts and nutrient-rich waters for the growth of algae.
In addition, the juxtaposition of Vale Boi between warm Mediterranean and colder
Atlantic waters produces an environment in which a variety of limpet species could
be exploited. The different species’ over-lapping stages of gonad development may
have allowed for many months supply of important lipids.
Southern Portugal with its xeric climate regime has a moist, cool, winter growing
season and a hot, dry summer where there is rapid decomposition of vegetation
(Haidouti et al. 2001). Evidence points to Vale Boi being a spring camp. Its low
altitude location and warm southern exposure would have made it an attractive
location during the colder months of late winter and early spring. During the
summer months, however, it may have been advantageous to move to higher alti-
tudinal regions containing upland pastures. These would have experienced cooler
and moister conditions, providing browse for ungulates as vegetation in the low-
lands became unpalatable. The evidence of resource intensification that is
observed at Vale Boi, both in the form of a broadening diet and the intensive
processing of ungulates, suggests behavioral efforts to alleviate environmental
stress. However, though particular favored foods may have become more difficult
to secure overall, the unique location of Vale Boi allowed for a diverse range of
foods to be exploited in the spring. As conditions became cooler and more arid
with the onset of the LGM, larger expanses of grasslands are likely to have
opened up for ungulate grazers and the increased intensity of ocean upwelling
would have boosted oceanic productivity on the nearby coastlines. Foragers had
access to edible plants (Haws 2003), the flesh of large and small mammals, the
marrow and bone-grease of large game, and the nearby nutrient-rich coast, with
its plentiful supply of marine shellfish. Despite considerable environmental
change, Vale Boi remained a site to which people returned to for many millennia;
a “good place” to come back to, whether for the diversity of its natural resources,
or the persistence of cultural tradition.
Acknowledgements The authors are grateful to Mary C Stiner for her invaluable guidance
throughout all aspects of this research; Rebecca Dean and Barnet Pavao-Zuckerman for their help-
ful insights and generous assistance; Britt Starkovich, Lisa Janz and Jonathan Dale for construc-
tive comments. The authors are also very grateful to two anonymous reviewers for their valuable
insights and suggestions. This research was supported by grants from the Archaeological Institute
of America, Portugal Fellowship; Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation, Scholarship for Foreign
Researchers; the Council of European Studies, Luso-American Development Foundation
Fellowship; and Fundação para a Ciência e Tecnologia, Portugal (projects POCTI/HAR/37543/2001
and PTDC/HAH/64184/2006).
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Chapter 12
Surf and Turf: The Use of Marine
and Terrestrial Resources in the Early Neolithic
of Coastal Southern Portugal
Rebecca M. Dean and António Faustino Carvalho
Introduction
Southern Portugal is an interesting case study in the spread of the Middle

Eastern Neolithic complex. Similar to sites along the Mediterranean coast, the
Portuguese Neolithic was the result of the longitudinal movement of agricultural
adaptations. Plants and animals that originally evolved in southwest Asia, there-
fore, did not have to adapt to extreme changes in the length of the growing
season, summer temperatures, or rainfall, as was the case with the latitudinal
movement of agriculture into interior and northern Europe. Unlike their contem-
poraries along the Mediterranean, however, the Mesolithic and Neolithic inhab-
itants of Portugal had access to the rich marine resources of the Atlantic Ocean
upwelling along the western coast of Europe allowed extensive exploitation of
fish and shellfish by relatively complex and sedentary groups of foragers
throughout the late Pleistocene and early Holocene, from Portugal to Scandinavia
(Arias 1999). The large concheiros (shell midden sites) of Mesolithic Portugal
are just one example of this phenomenon (Zilhão 1997).
The introduction of agriculture into areas dominated by well-established forag-
ing societies was a complex process. The success of marine-based economies may
well have delayed the adoption of agricultural products by local foragers, or the
colonization of the coast by immigrant farmers, in many areas of Mediterranean
Europe (Zilhão 1993; Arias 1999). Although Mesolithic lifeways based on coastal
resources were remarkably long-lived, they were eventually replaced by intensive
agricultural economies throughout the region. Classic archaeological models relat-
ing to the adoption of agriculture frequently point to food stress and declines in
foraging efficiency as causal factors in this transition (Binford 1968; Cohen 1977;
Flannery 1969; Rindos 1984). It remains to be demonstrated whether this was the
case in Portugal, and in what way such a decline may have been realized.
R.M. Dean (*)
Division of Social Sciences, University of Minnesota-Morris,
600 E. 4th Street, Morris, MN 56267, USA
292 R.M. Dean and A.F. Carvalho
Coastal southern Portugal, namely the Algarve region, has never been subject to
systematic research on the Mesolithic-Neolithic transition, despite the occasional
discovery, during the last 30 years, of some important sites dating to these time
periods. To remedy this situation, the University of Algarve led a multidisciplinary
project in 2002–2005. Summaries of the main results and their implications for the
understanding of the neolithization of Southwestern Portugal have been published
elsewhere (Carvalho et al. 2005; Carvalho 2010). The faunal assemblages recov-
ered during the excavation of some Mesolithic sites have been published by
Valente and Carvalho (2009), and a preliminary analysis of the early Neolithic
faunas was already presented by Dean (2006) and Carvalho et al. (2008).
The main aim of this paper is therefore to present a more detailed analysis of the
early Neolithic fauna from two sites, Rocha das Gaivotas and Vale Boi, both located
in the westernmost part of the Algarve (Fig. 12.1), and to discuss the early Neolithic
subsistence strategies in this region, particularly as they relate to changes in forag-
ing efficiency during the introduction of agriculture.
Rocha das Gaivotas is a shell midden located on the edge of a cliff 50 m
above the sea (Sagres, Vila do Bispo). It contains a long stratigraphic sequence.
The four earliest occupations, found in layer 3, are dated to 8,600–8,000 RCYBP
(Epipaleolithic). Within layer 2, there are two main occupations. The earlier occu-
pation, dating to 6,900–6,700 RCYBP, during the Mesolithic, is a very dense stra-
tum composed of shells and three fireplaces of complex typologies, including
stones of various sizes. Together with the high number of faunal and lithic remains,
this may represent a relatively stable, although probably seasonal, settlement. The
most common species present are limpets (Patella sp.), mussels (Mytilus sp.), dog
wilks (Thais haemastoma), and an edible barnacle, Pollicipes pollicipes, called
goose barnacle in English and perceve in Portugal, where it is widely eaten as a
delicacy. The limpets and mussels were the predominant species.
Fig. 12.1 Sites mentioned in the text

12 Surf and Turf: The Use of Marine and Terrestrial Resources 293
An Early Neolithic context, dating to 6,400 RCYBP, was identified immediately

above the Mesolithic deposits and contained a scattering of diagnostic pottery. This
occupation seems less intensive than the previous one: there are no features of any
kind and the shell midden itself is thin and stratigraphically less coherent. With the
exception of a few small and unidentifiable fragments of bone, marine invertebrates
are the only faunal remains present.
In contrast to Rocha das Gaivotas, the site of Vale Boi (Budens, Vila do
Bispo) is located some 2 km from the coast, in an area that favored the exploita-
tion of terrestrial resources. Vale Boi is a large archaeological site, located on a
west-facing slope, near the narrowing of a valley opening onto the ocean. It
would have been an ideal spot for hunting, and indeed, this site is already known
for its important Upper Paleolithic occupations, with abundant faunal remains,
in the so-called “area 1.”
The testing of “area 2,” at the base of the slope, revealed an Early Neolithic
occupation very different from the one recorded at Rocha das Gaivotas. It included
a single level defined by an irregular pavement with domestic structures. Associated
with this pavement were pottery, chipped stone, and bone tools. Several AMS dates
on mammal bone have consistently indicated an age of around 6,050 RCYBP for
the Neolithic levels at Vale Boi. No direct evidence of agriculture was found. The
faunal assemblage was largely composed of mammals, which will be discussed
below, but a small number of bird and fish remains were also found, including eagle
(Aquila sp.), quail or chukar (Alectoris sp.), and tope shark (Galeorhinus galeus).
This was published by Carvalho et al. (2008).
The majority of faunal remains from Vale Boi and Rocha das Gaivotas were
identified using the small comparative collection housed at the University of
Algarve. Specimens that could not be identified with this collection were taken to
Lisbon for identification at the Instituto Portugues de Arqueologia, Lisbon.
Measurements made on the remains followed the standards suggested by von den
Driesch (1976) for mammals and Claassen (1998) for shellfish. Length and width
measurements were also taken on individual perceve specimens. MNI counts for
shellfish were based on the number of umbos, for bivalves, and the pinnacle of
limpets. Each individual perceve barnacle produces 18 small shell shields, called
scuta or terga; the “beak-shaped” scuta that is found at the keel of the head was
counted as an MNI marker in these assemblages.
Faunal Remains from Vale Boi
The faunal assemblage from the Early Neolithic occupation levels at Vale Boi is
dominated by rabbit and ungulate specimens (Table 12.1). A total of 216 identifi-
able pieces of mammal bone were recovered from the deposits. Of these, 40%
(n = 150) belonged to the European rabbit (Oryctolagus cunniculus) or hare (Lepus
sp.). The vast majority of these lagomorph remains were from the smaller rabbit
species. Hare is only represented by four pieces.
Table 12.1 Faunal Remains from Vale Boi

Order NISP %NISP
Lagomorpha European rabbit (Oryctolagus 146 68%
cuniculus)
Hare (Lepus sp.) 4 1.9%
Artiodactyla Cattle (Bos sp.) 2 0.9%
cf. Bos sp. 2 0.9%
Ovicaprid (Capra/Ovis sp.) 31 14%
cf. Capra/Ovis sp. 10 5%
Goat (Capra sp.) 3 1%
Red deer (Cervus elaphus) 4 2%
cf. Cervus elaphus 12 6%
Pig (Sus scrofa) 2 0.9%
Total 216
European rabbit may be intrusive in archaeological sites, since these are burrowing
animals. The remains from Vale Boi, however, appear to be culturally deposited.
Many of the rabbit remains were found in or under large rock concentrations, which
would be unlikely areas for burrows. Furthermore, the distribution of lagomorph
remains, as shown below, is very similar to that of ungulates, which are clearly
anthropogenic. None of the faunal remains from Vale Boi have cut marks, but a high
proportion of the rabbit remains are burned. Thirty-five percent (n = 150) of the
lagomorph specimens were partially or fully burned, compared to only 23% (n = 91)
of the artiodactyl remains.
Most of the remaining mammalian remains from Vale Boi were ungulates,
including cattle (Bos sp.), red deer (Cervus elaphus), ovicaprids (Capra/Ovis sp.),
and pig (Sus scrofa). The most common identifiable ungulate remains belonged
to sheep or goat. They comprised 66% (n = 44) of the ungulate NISP that could
be identified to genera or better. Sheep and goat are very difficult to distinguish
on the basis of postcranial remains. It was possible, however, to identify three
specimens as definitely goat. Two specimens are more similar to sheep, but the
identifications cannot be confirmed because, in one case, the bone comes from a
very young animal, and in the other, the range of intraspecies variability for the
element is too high. The presence of sheep at the site, if it could be confirmed,
would be a proof that the animals at Vale Boi were domestic, because sheep are
not found wild in Europe.
Red deer were the next most common species, making up 24% (n = 16) of the
ungulate remains identifiable to genus or better. Cattle and pig remains were pres-
ent in small numbers. There were also a large number of bones (n = 157) that could
be identified only to the category of medium-sized ungulate. Based on their size,
the majority of these bones probably belonged to ovicaprids or possibly to red deer,
but it was not possible to identify them more specifically.
A number of marine shell fragments were recovered at Vale Boi. These comprised
an MNI of 12, divided between five different mollusk species, in addition to 94 shell
Fig. 12.2 The proportion of specimens found in each artificial level for each of the three major
taxonomic groups at Vale Boi: shellfish, ungulates, and rabbit. Note that all shell pieces are
included here, not just those containing identifiable portions. Specimens from the original test
pit were not included. One artiodactyl specimen was not included because it belonged to either
level 2 or 3
fragments that could not be included within the MNI counts. It appears, however, that
the shell is unrelated to the Neolithic occupation of the site. Direct dating of the shell
suggests that some, at least, are modern. Furthermore, the stratigraphic distribution of
shell is quite different from the distribution of mammalian remains (Fig. 12.2). In
total, 56.9% (n = 41) of shell NISP came from the top 5 cm of the excavations (artifi-
cial level 1), which is more likely to represent a mixed archaeological context than
the lower levels. Shell is very common in those earlier deposits, and indeed, a higher
number of shell pieces (n = 57) were found in the disturbed sediment directly overly-
ing the excavation units than in any of the Neolithic levels. The amount of shell drops
off precipitously in the lower, more securely dated, levels. In contrast, land mammal
specimens follow the opposite pattern. Fewer ungulates and rabbits are found in the
highest excavation level; only 3.3% (n = 5) of rabbit remains and 6.2% (n = 16) of
ungulate remains are found in the top artificial excavation level. Both taxonomic
groups are much more common in the more secure Neolithic contexts.
It is likely, therefore, that the large number of shell pieces from the highest
excavation levels do not reflect Neolithic resource use, although undoubtedly some of
the shell, particularly from lower excavation levels, do date to the Neolithic period.
One goose barnacle, one carpet venus, and three small pieces of limpet shell were
identified from these deposits.
The overall picture that emerges of the Vale Boi Neolithic economy is one
dominated by mammalian resources, despite its relative proximity to the coast. In
particular, the assemblage is largely comprised of the smaller mammalian species
available in the region, including rabbits and the smaller ungulates. Larger
terrestrial resources, such as cattle, are represented by only a few bones.
Fauna from Rocha Das Gaivotas
In marked contrast to the faunal assemblage from Vale Boi, the assemblage from
Rocha das Gaivotas is almost entirely comprised of marine resources, specifically
shellfish and edible barnacles (Table 12.2). Three small pieces of unidentifiable
mammal bone were found, but the remainder of the assemblage reflects an eco-
nomic focus on gathering the sea. The sample contains a total of 8,189 fragments,
with a total minimum number of individuals of 2,761. Although 12 species of
marine resources were identified at the site, the vast majority of the assemblage is
made up of limpets and the edible barnacles, perceves. Perceves attach themselves
to rocks in the tidal zone and are easily gathered on the beach, which undoubtedly
made them an attractive food source. The animals are quite small, however, at only
5 cm in length on average, and only the foot is edible (Saldanha 1995:121).
Therefore, they produce very little food per individual. Limpets and perceves
together comprise 76% (n = 2,105) of the assemblage at Rocha das Gaivotas. The
only other species found in significant amounts is the mussel, which made up 16%
(n = 437) of the assemblage.
The other species of marine animals found at Rocha das Gaivotas combined for
less than 8% (n = 219) of the assemblage. Most of these other specimens represent
animals that were carried to the site as passengers on shellfish. This, for example,
is the most likely explanation for the relatively large number of nonedible barnacles
that were found in the Neolithic levels. Other edible species, such as the cockle
(Cerastoderma edule) and the dog wilk, were present in only tiny numbers com-
pared to perceves, limpets, and mussels.
The picture of Neolithic economies that emerges from the analysis of Rocha das
Gaivotas, therefore, is one focused entirely on marine resources, with no use of
terrestrial resources at all. The smaller marine resources, the edible barnacles, were
particularly prevalent at the site, with some larger species, such as mussels, less
commonly represented.
Table 12.2 Faunal remains from Rocha das Gaivotas

Order Species MNI %MNI
Pollicipedidae Pollicipes pollicipes 1,115 40%
Balanidae Balanus sp. 154 6%
Archaeogastropoda Patella sp. 990 36%
Basommatophora Siphonaria pectinata=algesirae 16 0.6%
Monodonta lineata 4 0.1%
Neogastropoda Nassarius=Hinia reticulata 2 0.1%
Ocinebrina edwardsi 16 0.6%
Stramonita=Thais haemastoma 21 0.8%
Urosalpinx cinerea 1 0.04%
Nucella lapillus 4 0.1%
Mytiloida Mytilus sp. 437 16%
Cardiidae Cerastoderma=Cardium edule 1 0.04%
Total 2,761
Changes Through Time in the Faunal Assemblages
Figure 12.3 shows changes in the proportion of the three major marine resources in
the arbitrary excavation levels at Rocha das Gaivotas. Level 5, the lowest excava-
tion level, probably dates to the Mesolithic period or represents a mixed Mesolithic
and Neolithic context. Levels 1 through 4 are more securely dated to the Early
Neolithic. In the earliest occupation levels, larger mussel species are more common.
In Level 5, they make up 22% of the minimum number of individuals. In the
Neolithic levels, however, they make a much less significant contribution to the
assemblage. In Levels 1 through 4, mussels are never more than 14% of the assem-
blage. In the most recent levels, they are only 12% of the assemblage, just over half
their representation in the Mesolithic.
Changes through time in the use of limpets and the small barnacle, perceves, are
also visible, with the use of perceves consistently increasing at the expense of lim-
pets. Perceves comprise 58% of the minimum number of individuals in the highest
level, a rise from 41% in the lowest level. Limpets, on the other hand, decline from
35% of the assemblage in level 5–26% of the assemblage in level 1. As can be seen
from this graph, however, the decline in limpet use is not gradual, but instead a
categorical change that occurs between levels 3 and 2, when the percentage drops
from 35 to 29%.
Fig. 12.3 Genus representation across arbitrary levels in the main Neolithic excavation areas at
Rocha das Gaivotas. Level 1 is the most recent. Level 5, the earliest, is a mixed Neolithic/
Mesolithic layer
Table 12.3 Changes in average shell size across arbitrary

excavation levels
Patella Pollicipes
Nivel Length Width Length Width
1 16.49 11.75 13.56 7.08
2 21.73 14.95 14.17 7.34
3 27.17 21.03 14.47 7.40
4 26.71 20.28 14.75 7.63
5 25.29 19.48 15.08 7.70
The decline in limpet representation and the increase in perceve use cooccur
with declines in average size for both genera (Table 12.3). Average length and
width for limpet specimens decline sharply between levels 3 and 2, from an average
of 27 mm in length and 21 mm in width to averages of 21 and 15, respectively. It
should be noted, however, that this analysis groups together more than one species
of limpet, and changes in limpet species representation would affect average speci-
men size. Perceves shows a similar decline in the average length and width of the
small shell-like scuta or terga that protects the head of the animal. The average
length of perceve scuta/terga in the lowest level was over 15 mm, which declines to
13.5 mm in lower levels. Average width also declines, although not as significantly,
from 7.7 in level 5 to 7.08 in level 1.
Overexploitation of marine resources could account for changes in both species
representation and in average size of animals. This is difficult to prove, however,
since the reaction of shellfish to minor fluctuations in local environments makes it
particularly difficult to identify overexploitation in shellfish resources (Claassen
1998:45). Regardless of cause, however, the increasing use of small barnacle
species, and the concurrent decrease in average shell size, represents a decline in
foraging efficiency throughout the Neolithic period at Rocha das Gaivotas. Similar
analyses from other sites will be needed to show whether the decline was limited
to this particular point along the coast or if it is a pattern generally present in Early
Neolithic shell midden sites.
The site of Vale Boi, although dominated by terrestrial resources that are quite
different from the marine species found at Rocha das Gaivotas, none the less exhib-
its a similar pattern of subsistence change. Unfortunately, comparisons with earlier
Holocene deposits are difficult, as there is no evidence of a Mesolithic occupation
at Vale Boi, except for the presence of an individual human molar dating to that
period. However, the site was occupied for many thousands of years during the
Paleolithic, and there is a rich faunal record from these earlier periods that can be
compared to the Neolithic occupations at the site (Manne et al. 2006, 2011).
Figure 12.4 shows the proportion of major species found in the Paleolithic and
Neolithic occupations at Vale Boi. Data from the Gravettian, Solutrean, and
Magdalenian levels are from Manne et al. (2011; personal communication). Small
game, specifically rabbits, are more common in the Neolithic period than in the
preceding Magdalenian and Solutrean, although levels of exploitation were high
Fig. 12.4 Taxa as a proportion of NISP at Vale Boi
throughout prehistory. Rabbits are 69% (n = 150) of NISP in the Neolithic levels at
Vale Boi, compared to 70% (n = 480) in the Magdalenian, and 54% (n = 2,466) in the
Solutrean. They comprised 84% (n = 2,751) of the Gravettian assemblage, however.
The most striking difference in faunal exploitation during the Neolithic is seen
in the changes in ungulate exploitation. Larger animals, such as cattle, horse, and
red deer, were much more common in the Paleolithic than Neolithic levels. These
larger ungulates make up 30% (n = 202) of the Magdalenian fauna, 46% (n = 2,089)
of the Solutrean fauna, and 16% (n = 506) of the Gravettian fauna. In contrast, they
are less than 10% (n = 20) of the fauna from the Neolithic occupations.
The large ungulates that were common in the Paleolithic were largely replaced
in the Neolithic by medium-sized ungulates, including sheep/goats and pig. In the
Paleolithic assemblages, these smaller ungulates were virtually absent, compris-
ing less than 1% of all faunal specimens in each of the early periods of occupa-
tion. In the Neolithic levels, however, the majority of ungulates are ovicaprids.
Goats (and possibly sheep) are 20% (n = 44) of all faunal specimens in the
Neolithic occupations. Pigs, another medium-sized ungulate, were a negligible
portion of the assemblage.
The significant increase in ovicaprids in the Neolithic levels likely reflects the
introduction of domestic sheep and goats into the region and their integration into
the economic system at Vale Boi. Since the domestic status of these animals can-
not, however, be proven, it is possible that the predominance of medium ungulates
in the assemblage instead reflects the greater importance of hunted wild goat.
These animals may have gained greater prominence in the diet due to the decreased
availability of larger game in later time periods, whether that decreased availabil-
ity was the result of overhunting, larger human populations, or changing climates
in southern Portugal.
Conclusions
Although the faunal assemblages from the Neolithic occupations at Rocha das
Gaivotas and Vale Boi are entirely different in terms of the species present, they
both represent economic strategies based on the consumption of smaller taxa,
whether that smaller game is represented by barnacles or smaller ungulates and
rabbits. The implication is that early Neolithic adaptations in southern Portugal, as
in many other parts of the world, were characterized by resource depression, in
comparison to earlier occupations in the same region. It is not clear, from the data
in these sites alone, whether this resource depression preceded the Neolithic, and
therefore may have been one of the driving factors in the adoption of the new agri-
cultural technologies, or if resource depression was a result of larger populations or
more intensive occupations brought about by the agricultural revolution. The
gradual changes in taxa size seen at Rocha das Gaivotas support the idea that
resource depression increased during, and not before, the early Neolithic. However,
the size and abundance of shellfish can be highly variable, influenced by a variety
of ecological conditions, so the evidence from one site is not conclusive.
Changes in animal exploitation at the sites may also have been influenced by
changes in prey availability, which were not caused by human agency, but rather by
fluctuations in marine climates or changing terrestrial environments in the early/
mid Holocene. Whether or not the prehistoric inhabitants of the Algarve caused the
reduction of foraging efficiency by overexploitation of resources, the Neolithic
herder/foragers certainly had to deal with the consequences of decreased availability
of higher-ranked prey. The greater reliance on smaller animals, which was the
result of this change, may have heightened the attraction of the newly introduced
domestic resources.
The exclusive focus on coastal or terrestrial resources at each site also has
interesting implications for the degree of residential mobility practiced by early
Neolithic peoples. Isotopic studies on human bones by Lubell et al. (1994) show that
Mesolithic people in Portugal ate a diet that balanced terrestrial and marine resources,
in contrast to early Neolithic populations that were almost entirely dependent upon
terrestrial sources for their protein. Isotope analysis of the Mesolithic human molar
from Vale Boi, mentioned above, also revealed a balanced consumption of marine
and terrestrial foods (Carvalho et al. 2008). Therefore, the sites of Rocha das
Gaivotas and Vale Boi suggest that early Neolithic people in the western Algarve did
not increase the diversity of their diet by pooling resources in central locations, but
rather by following residential mobility patterns that took advantage of particularly
rich collection areas.
The discovery of the important site of Castelo Belinho (with burials, storage pits,
and possible large, rectangular wooden houses), dating to the early Neolithic, is
testimony that more permanent habitation sites existed in the hinterland and that a
broad spectrum of resources may have been exploited in sites such as this (Gomes
2008). On the other hand, the existing data suggest that early Neolithic sites near
the coast represent short-term occupations where only local resources were
harvested. In any case, high mobility would not exclude the possibility of signifi-
cant economic focus on agriculture. The planting, tending, and harvesting of
domestic grains, for example, are seasonal activities, and therefore could be coor-
dinated with seasonal mobility.
There is nothing in the archaeological record of Rocha das Gaivotas and Vale
Boi, however, to suggest a strong reliance on agricultural products, whether animal
or vegetable. A heavy focus on sheep and goat transhumance, for example, would
presumably be reflected in a high ubiquity of ovicaprids in all types of Neolithic
sites, rather than their complete absence from shell midden sites like Rocha das
Gaivotas. Nor is there an obvious indication of heavy reliance on domestic plants
in the form of groundstone or storage features at either site.
The data from these two sites, therefore, suggest they were logistic occupations
associated with a much larger and more substantial village. The focus on local
resources in the faunal assemblages from Rocha das Gaivotas and Vale Boi reflects
their specialized functions more than the overall economic system of which they
were a part. These sites are good examples of the incomplete picture that could be
drawn of Neolithic subsistence strategies if based solely on one site, without an
understanding of the regional context. The discovery of several permanent Cardial
Neolithic open-air sites (such as La Marmotta, near Rome, La Draga in Catalonia, or
Mas d’Is in Alicante) is gradually changing a long-lasting perception of this time
period in the western basin of the Mediterranean as characterized by small, high
mobile groups of hunters and shepherds living in caves near the sea, in contrast to the
pattern of more sedentary communities with more intensive economic practices, as
recognized in the early Neolithic of the Danube (e.g., Guilaine 1976; Whittle 1985).
Acknowledgments The authors would like to thank Tiina Manne, Mary Stiner, and Nuno Bicho
for the use of the Paleolithic faunal data from Vale Boi and Simon Davis for the identification of
amphibian and bird remains from the Neolithic levels. Cristiana Santana helped with the identifi-
cation of the fauna from Rocha das Gaivotas. Joseph Beaver wrote the database that was used in
analyzing the fauna.
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Upper Paleolithic at Vale Boi (Algarve, Portugal). In N. Bicho (ed.), IV Congresso de
Arqueologia Peninsular. Animais na Pré-História e Arqueologia da Península Ibérica. Faro:
Universidade do Algarve (Promontoria Monográfica; 3), p. 145–158.
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Part II
South America, Africa, and Oceania
Chapter 13
Pinniped Zooarchaeological Studies in Southern
Patagonia: Current Issues and Future Research
Agenda
Introduction
Sea lions have been one of the main resources used by Holocene hunter–gatherers in
Southern Patagonia, but many aspects of their exploitation still remain to be studied
if we are to understand the variability involved in human-pinniped relationships since
the human peopling of the region at the end of the Pleistocene. In this chapter,
Southern Patagonia is defined as the southern tip of South America, from Santa Cruz
river (50°S) to Cape Horn (55°S). The main pinniped species in this region are the
Southern sea lion (Otaria flavescens) and the South American fur seal (Arctocephalus
australis). The former weighs 300 kg (males) and 150 kg (females), and the latter,
140 kg (males) and 50 kg (females). Besides their body size, these two species differ
in the loci they use for mating and pupping, as well as in the waters where they feed
(King 1983; Jefferson et al. 1993; Bastida and Rodriguez 2003).
Pinnipeds have been relevant to the human populations in Southern Patagonia
throughout the Holocene for several reasons, among which, the amount of grease
they offer, which is a critical substance at these latitudes (Borrero 1986); the
energetic subsidy from the marine to the terrestrial environment they represent
(Schiavini 1993), and their predictability in time and abundance in certain areas of
the Patagonian landscape (Lanata and Borrero 1994). Pinnipeds can be found year-
round in certain localities along the coast, the permanent colonies, and temporally
in the seasonal ones. Isolated individuals can also be found along the coast (King
1983; Grandi et al. 2008).
Several studies carried out during the last decades have questioned the past
validity of the ethnographically derived model according to which marine hunter–
gatherers inhabited West and South of Southern Patagonia and terrestrial ones
A.S. Muñoz (*)
Laboratorio de Zooarqueología y Tafonomía de Zonas Áridas,
CONICET-Museo de Antropología, Universidad Nacional de Córdoba,
Av. H. Yrigoyen 174, 5000 Córdoba, Argentina
306 A.S. Muñoz
occupied the Eastern insular and continental sectors. According to this ethnographic
model, the former foraged the marine space around the archipelago by means of
canoes while the latter were terrestrial hunters, and both groups shared a nomadic way
of life and very simple technologies (Menghin 1952; Steward and Faron 1959).
Based on archaeological data, more recent studies have shown that in preethno-
graphic times, human strategies in Fuego-Patagonia were more varied than previ-
ously thought (e.g., Yesner 1990; Legoupil 1993–1994; Borrero 1997; Yesner
et al. 2003) and hence that a new round of investigation aiming at recognizing the
whole range of variation in the interactions between hunter–gatherers and their
prey is needed (e.g., Borrero 1997, 2001). Regarding pinnipeds, such variation
involves different strategies, ranging from the sporadic, occasional exploitation of
these mammals (see Legoupil 2003) to their intensive and specialized use by
hunter–gatherers (see Orquera and Piana 1999).
In this chapter, the current state of the arte regarding human-pinniped relation-
ship in Southern Patagonia during the Holocene is reviewed. Several key issues are
analyzed, such as methodological research tools, taphonomic criteria and data
available, and the nature of the regional zooarchaeological database available for
this region. This review is a starting point to discuss a future research agenda that
will lead us to go deeply into the variability involved in such relationships in dif-
ferent geographical areas across Southern Patagonia.
What We Know and What We Do Not Know: Current State

of the Art in Pinniped Zooarchaeological Studies
in Southern Patagonia
During the Holocene, humans in Southern Patagonia have had virtually no competitors
to exploit pinnipeds in land, unlike other regions where carnivores compete for this
resource (as in South Africa, Klein et al. 1999). This situation does not necessarily imply
that pinniped populations would have reached its potential maximum in Patagonia,
since human predation would have entailed a selective pressure on them (Brothwell and
Dimbleby 1981; Vidal and Winograd 1987). According to Vidal and Winograd, this
impact could have taken place early in this relationship and the pressure might have
affected not just the annual increase rate but also their maximum density and the mode
of landscape occupation. This way, pinniped response to predatory pressure would
have been a nonhomogeneous landscape use and, hence, one only partially dependent
on the environmental aptitude of available spaces (Vidal and Winograd 1987).
That is, although historical distribution of pinniped colonies does not necessarily
mirror their prehistoric exploitation, the latter would have impinged upon pinni-
peds, especially by diminishing intra- and interspecific competition (Lyman 1988,
1991a, 1995) and by increasing the spreading of pinniped populations1 (Vidal and
Winograd 1987; Hildebrant and Jones 1992; Klein et al. 1999).
See for instance the case of marine elephants and the aboriginal population of Tasmania (Bryden
1
et al. 1999).
13 Pinniped Zooarchaeological Studies in Southern Patagonia 307
In historical times, a different pressure was exerted upon pinniped populations that
lead to over killing by sealers. Such exploitation, promoted at a global scale, often
caused the disappearance of local populations which eventually lead to the near
extinction of different species (see for instance Bonner 1978, 1982; McClung 1978;
King 1983; Lyman 1988; and for the region, Winograd 1984; Orquera 2002).
Historical distribution of these pinniped colonies in Patagonia is poorly known.
For the XX century, there are the censuses by Carrara (1952) in the Atlantic coast
and by Sielfeld (1983) and collaborators (Sielfeld et al. 1978) in the Chilean archi-
pelagos. More recent studies carried out on O. flavescens populations surveyed on
the Atlantic coast show a decrease in numbers relative to what Carrara observed in
the forties in Southern Patagonia. This reduction, it is argued, results from sealing
during the XX century (Schiavini et al. 2004). Nevertheless, a recolonization pro-
cess is having place in several areas (see Grandi et al. 2008).
At a regional scale, Tunez et al. (2008a, b) found no differences in the location of
O. flavescens nor A. australis breeding colonies since Carrara’s census, being pro-
tected areas with good access to deep water the loci preferred by the latter species
(Tunez et al. 2008b). This suggests that, even under heavy or sustained pressure,
certain places could have been important in the past for pinniped aggregation while
others were not. In this regard, it is important to note that Tunez et al. (2008a:198)
mention a lack of colonies in Southern Patagonia Atlantic coast probably because of
the extreme variation in tide width south of Santa Cruz river to Tierra del Fuego.
In sum, it can be postulated that hunting implied a pressure which may have
modified pinniped distribution and behavior in Southern Patagonia, but the picture
is still not clear (Vidal and Winograd 1987). Even when human-pinniped relation-
ships would have been stable in certain regions through time (Orquera 2005), varia-
tions in this relationships at a larger scale remain to be fully understood and this
would benefit from different kinds of approaches (e.g., Borrero 2001; Barberena
et al. 2004; Muñoz 2005; Fiore and Zangrando 2006; Moreno 2008). The more
recent impact of sealers on pinniped colonies was certainly stronger, impinging
upon both pinniped and local human populations (see Orquera 2002). The specifics
of this process and its consequences to previous human-pinniped relationships are
yet to be studied.
In order to evaluate the current state of the art of studies on human-pinniped
relationships in Southern Patagonia, three issues are reviewed: methodological,
taphonomic, and zooarchaeological ones.
Methodology
A first aspect to evaluate is the methodological basis available for the study of South
American pinniped bone remains. As Legoupil (1989–1990) clearly states, the main
problem zooarchaeologists have to face is the absence of identification keys, particu-
larly for the postcranial skeleton, and the fact that the two most common otarid
species in Southern Patagonia have very similar skeletons. These makes distinguishing
O. flavescens from A. australis bones a difficult task, being O. flavescens adult males
308 A.S. Muñoz
and A. australis newborns the only categories that can be clearly told apart when
bones of the two species are deposited together (Legoupil 1989–1990). With the
exception of the O. jubata2 anatomy and osteology by Murie (1870) no complete
description of Southern sea lions skeleton is available. Also, we are still not fully
aware of intraspecies variation, something that has already been explored in other
parts of the world, like in the case of North Atlantic seals (Hodgetts 1999), although
a good description sexual dimorphism based on O. flavescens canine teeth and
cranial bones has been available for a long time (Crespo 1984).
Almost 20 years ago, Legoupil concluded that it was possible to differentiate
both species from bones other than the palatine and maxilla, namely fossa
masseterica and process coronoideus and to a lesser extent, in young individuals,
the canine teeth shape. Regarding morphometry her results showed an important
overlap between the two species in individuals from 2 to 150 kg (measurements
taken on the mandible and femur), and hence it is necessary to identify age and sex
in the specimens considered. This is usually difficult to establish in postcranial
bones. Canine size and the presence of the baculum may allow sex identification,
and bone size and fusion stage and tooth growth layers and eruption stage can help
in age determination. Nevertheless, problems derived from bone measurements and
fusion stages impose some difficulties (Legoupil 1989–1990).
Another important contribution to methods in pinniped zooarchaeology at that
time was Schiavini’s (Schiavini et al. 1988; Schiavini 1992, see also Crespo et al.
1994), who contributed to the taxonomic and sexual differentiation of southern
otarids based on osteological features. He considered shape and size of otarid bones
and differences in rostral and mandibular width and canine size and shape, conclud-
ing that these criteria were useful to differentiating species and sex in the Southern
Patagonia archaeological sample studied by himself – Tunel I site (Schiavini 1992).
A detailed description of the methodology for age and seasonality determination
applied to southern otarids was published (Schiavini 1992) as well as its application
to various archaeological assemblages (Schiavini 1993).
Several studies, now in progress, are oriented towards filling some of the gaps
already mentioned. That’s the case of the O. flavescens osteometry guide for sub-
adult individuals (L’Heureux et al. 2011) and its implications for seasonality studies
(Borella and L’Heureux 2011). Also O. flavescens economic anatomy studies have
been published recently (San Roman 2009).
In brief, although an increase in pinniped zooarchaeology methods and research
tools in Southern Patagonia is noticeable (see also next section), the current meth-
odological basis, as a recent concise methodological review done by San Roman
suggests (San Roman 2008), is similar to that available in the early nineties. Hence,
the future research agenda in pinniped zooarchaeological methods should consider
the refinement of available approaches and the exploration of different lines of
evidences, such as bone fusion sequence. Research resources such as detailed
osteological guides and reference collections with several individuals representing
different ages, sex, and provenience are also necessary. Fortunately, some of these
topics are already in progress.
2
Currently O. flavescens (Scheffer 1958).
Pinniped Taphonomy
A taphonomic approach is a necessary step towards the evaluation of human-

pinniped interactions trough time in the region but only recently has it been
addressed (e.g., Borrero 2004; Borella and Muñoz 2006; Borella et al. 2008;
Muñoz 2008). A taphonomic perspective on pinniped bone accumulations is nec-
essary not only to understanding the formation history of archaeological samples
but also to evaluate the accumulation odds and nature of natural pinniped bone
concentrations in the Patagonian coast. As Borella and Muñoz (2006) suggest, the
lack of systematic studies and observations is still a problem on this field of
enquiry, and that includes not only the specifics of bone modification processes
in pinniped remains but also the study of natural disarticulation (Muñoz 2008).
The latter could be of importance since natural bone accumulations that has been
already studied showed that differences in anatomical completeness indexes
could be of help when trying to differentiate natural from anthropogenic assem-
blages (see Muñoz 2008: Fig. 13.4).
The lack of taphonomic criteria was a common problem for Patagonian
pinniped zooarchaeology (e.g., Schiavini 1993) before the last decade, making it
necessary to consider the use of taphonomic tools originally developed for terres-
trial mammals (e.g., Muñoz 1996). By then a taphonomic project on marine
mammals started in Tierra del Fuego (Borella 1996, 2004) and criteria became
available to understand the taphonomy of organisms that involved marine and
terrestrial environments.
A first approach to study the specifics of pinniped natural bone accumulations
in Southern Patagonia and their implications to Patagonian zooarchaeological
record was carried out by Borrero (2004) and Borella and Muñoz (2006).
Borrero (2004) addressed the need of a taphonomic approach to pinniped zooar-
chaeology in Patagonia, and presented preliminary data to prepare future
research agendas. The author applied a regional taphonomic perspective for
evaluating possibilities of mixture between archaeological and natural pinniped
bones from Tierra del Fuego and Isabel islands, and to identify the natural depo-
sition of pinniped carcasses. His goal was to develop taphonomic criteria to
address taphonomic questions (Borrero 2004). The results show that possibilities
of bone mixing in some of the studied beaches exist, being it very difficult to
distinguish archaeological from nonarchaeological bones in a same deposit with
the current knowledge (Borrero 2004).
Borella and Muñoz (2006) explored different scenarios of coastal bone accumu-
lations according to differences in beach features. The latter correlated to some
extent with bone modifications on the studied bones, such as weathering, fragmen-
tation, and burial, as well as anatomical representation. On comparing these results
against archaeological bone assemblages, Muñoz (2008) found that they differ at
different levels, such as anatomical composition, age and weathering profiles, being
axial and flipper bone representation, fragmentation, and carnivore marks ambig-
uous indicators to distinguish each type of assemblage.
At present, a new round of taphonomic studies has followed to the first series of
exploratory enquiries, aimed at overcoming the gaps of the previous ones. Such is
310 A.S. Muñoz
the case of pinniped carcass disarticulation studies in Northern Patagonia

(Borella and Borrero 2010) and long-term studies on bone modification and
carcass disarticulation in Southern Patagonia (Muñoz and Cruz 2010).
An important contribution to the understanding of pinniped bone taphonomy is
the study of South American otarid mineral bone density done by Borella et al.
(2008). They studied the skeletons of one individual of each taxon, O. flavescens
and A. australis, and found a high correlation between them and less variation
across the skeleton than in the case of the terrestrial guanaco (Lama guanicoe).
The latter presents a broader range of values, with higher and lower values in
certain bones (Borella et al. 2008). These results led the authors to disregard previ-
ous suggestions that considered pinniped bones as denser than ungulate ones (see
Lyman et al. 1992, in Borella et al. 2008) and to conclude that, under similar
taphonomic conditions, pinniped bones will tend to keep higher anatomical integ-
rity than ungulates.
Summing up, pinniped taphonomic research is not fully developed but
important steps have been taken recently. These include exploratory approaches
to evaluate conditions and places where bones can be deposited or be mixed
with archaeological materials, bone modifications capable of discriminating
natural from anthropic accumulations, mineral bone density values and anatomical
part representation. Long-term systematic observations on carcass disarticula-
tion processes, as well as the weathering sequence of pinniped bones, are now
under progress.
The Southern Patagonia Pinniped Zooarchaeological Record
In this section, a three level analysis of the available pinniped zooarchaeological

data is presented. The first one, based on NISP and temporal allocation (Tables 13.1
and 13.2, Fig. 13.2), covers a broader geographical area and time span, although
imposing a vague grain of analysis. The second level, more detailed, includes
assemblage composition, and specifically pinniped contribution to assemblage
mammal diversity and species, age and sex classes represented in different geo-
graphical zones and time allocations (Tables 13.3 and 13.4, Figs. 13.3 and 13.4).
Finally, a more detailed bone composition analysis will be presented for those
archaeological sites for which anatomical information from the complete skeleton
has been published (Tables 13.5 and 13.6, Fig. 13.5).
Southern Patagonian coast can be divided in four geographical zones: Western
inner channels (Otway Sea and Magellan Strait), Southern inner channels (Beagle
channel), Fueguian Atlantic coast, and Continental Patagonia Atlantic coast
(Fig. 13.1). For analytical purposes we have split the pinniped zooarchaeological
database in two temporal groups. Temporal Group 1 (TG 1) involves archaeological
assemblages dated between 3000 and 100 RCYBP. Temporal Group 2 (TG 2)
groups archaeological assemblages dated between 6500 and 4000 RCYBP.
Table 13.1 Regional pinniped data base considered for Temporal Group 1 (3000–100 RCYBP), based on published data
Archaeological site Geographical area Radiocarbon date (RCYBP) NISP References
Cerro Mesa Atlantic Tierra del Fuego ND 74 Muñoz (1996)
San Pablo 7 Atlantic Tierra del Fuego ND 3 Borrero and Lanata (1988)
Túnel 7B Beagle channel 100 ± 450 8,953 Orquera and Piana (1999) and
Zangrando (2009)
Imiwaia Beagle channel 150 ± 70 313 Zangrando (2009)
Río Verde 1 Skyiring sea 280 ± 60 2 San Román et al. (2002)
San Pablo 1 Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 290 ± 70 119 Borrero and Lanata (1988)
San Génaro 2 Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 250 ± 80/1483 ± 80 9 Horwitz (1995) and Borrero et al.
(2008)
Shamakush X Beagle channel 500 ± 100 9 Zangrando (2009)
Punta Baja Otway sea 280 ± 70 7,367 Legoupil (1989)
Lancha Packewaia B Beagle channel 280 ± 85 1,127 Orquera and Piana (1993–1994,
1999)
Punta María 2a Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 300 ± 100/720 ± 50 254 Borella et al. (1996) and Muñoz
(2005)
Lancha Packewaia C Beagle channel 455 ± 85 281 Orquera and Piana (1993–1994,
1999)
Lancha Packewaia D Beagle channel 470 ± 50/1590 ± 50 461 Orquera and Piana (1993–1994,
13 Pinniped Zooarchaeological Studies in Southern Patagonia
1999)
Túnel 1 beta Beagle channel 670 ± 80/450 ± 60 113 Zangrando (2009)
Bloque Errático Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 785 ± 120 1 Borrero et al. (1985)
Bahía Valentín 42 Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 984 ± 32 32 Vázquez et al. (2008)
Shamakush I Beagle channel 1020 ± 80/940 ± 110 102 Zangrando (2009)
María Luisa A3 Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 1020 ± 80 524 Savanti (1994)
San Génaro 1 Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 1070 ± 100 17 Horwitz (1995)
Cabo Vírgenes 2 Atlantic Patagonia 1050 ± 70 20 Barberena et al. (2004)
Túnel 2 Beagle channel 1120 ± 90/1140 ± 90 562 Orquera and Piana (1999)
(continued)
311
312

Cabo Vírgenes 6 Atlantic Patagonia 1190 ± 60/1170 ± 50 64 Barberena et al. (2004)
Punta María 2b Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 1230 ± 50 274 Borella et al. (1996) and Muñoz
(2005)
Monte León cch4 Atlantic Patagonia 1330 ± 60/1700 ± 690 115 Caracotche et al. (2005)
Cabo Vírgenes 1 Atlantic Patagonia 1380 ± 180 43 Barberena et al. (2004)
Rancho Donata 7 Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 1500 ± 50 456 Lanata (1993)
Isla El Salmón 5 Beagle channel 1765 ± 25 2 Figuerero Torres and Mengoni
Goñalons (1986)
Túnel 1 C1 Beagle channel 1920 ± 80 707 Zangrando (2009)
Punta María 2c Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 2300 ± 90 164 Borella et al. (1996) and Muñoz
(2005)
Túnel 1 alfa-X Beagle channel 2690 ± 80/2660 ± 100 780 Zangrando (2009)
A.S. Muñoz
Table 13.2 Regional pinniped data base considered for Temporal Group 2 (6500–4000 RCYBP), based on published data
Lancha Packewaia D¢ Beagle channel Similar to LP X/Y 180 Orquera and Piana (1993–1994,
1999)
Lancha Packewaia X/Y Beagle channel 4020 ± 70 408 Orquera and Piana (1993–1994,
1999)
Camden 2 Otway sea 4030 ± 80 370 San Román et al. (2002)
Ponsonby B Skyiring sea 4100/4500 504 Legoupil (2003)
Túnel 1 D f VI Beagle channel 4590 ± 130 4,764 Zangrando (2009)
Túnel 1 C3 Beagle channel 4380 ± 80 983 Zangrando (2009)
Laguna Arcillosa 2 Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 4440 ± 60/3690 ± 70 2 Salemme et al. (2008)
Ponsonby C Skyiring sea 4600/5400 37 Legoupil (2003)
Lancha Packewaia E Beagle channel 4980 ± 70 618 Orquera and Piana (1993–1994,
1999)
Bahía Colorada Otway sea 5500 ± 70 4,297 Legoupil (1997)
Los Noruegos Otway sea 5585 ± 65 26 San Román et al. (2002)
Túnel 1 D f IV Beagle channel 11,346 Zangrando (2009)
Túnel 1 D f V Beagle channel 5840 ± 185/5630 ± 120 5,067 Zangrando (2009)
Túnel 1 D f VII Beagle channel 4,434 Zangrando (2009)

Túnel 1 D f VIII Beagle channel 3,398 Zangrando (2009)
Imiwaia I Beagle channel 5872 ± 147 633 Orquera and Piana (2000)
Bahía Buena Magellan strait 5895 ± 65 4,071 Ortiz Troncoso (1978) and San
Román (2008)
Río Chico 1 Atlantic Tierra del Fuego 5856 ± 44 31 Santiago et al. (2007)
Túnel 1 D f III Beagle channel 5950 ± 170 3,288 Zangrando (2009)
Túnel 1 D f II Beagle channel 6410 ± 150 6,645 Zangrando (2009)
Túnel 1 D f I Beagle channel 6470 ± 100/6020 ± 120 2,223 Zangrando (2009)
Ponsonby D Skyiring sea 6690 ± 130/7450 ± 80 12 Legoupil (2003)
313
314
Table 13.3 Pinniped zooarchaeological information from sixteen archaeological assemblages corresponding to the Temporal Group 1
Pinniped O. flavescenes A. australis
Archaeological site Geographical area representation representation representation Age classes Sex proportions References
Túnel 7B Beagle channel Dominant Present Dominant Mostly youngs Male dominated Orquera and Piana
(1999) and
Zangrando
(2009)
Río Verde 1 Skyiring sea Present ND ND ND ND San Román et al.
(2002)
Punta Baja Otway sea Dominant Dominant Present Mostly youngs Female dominated Legoupil (1989)
Lancha Packewaia B Beagle channel Dominant Present Dominant Mostly youngs Male dominated Orquera and Piana
(1993–1994)
Lancha Packewaia C Beagle channel Dominant Present Dominant Mostly youngs Male dominated Orquera and Piana
(1993–1994)
Punta María 2a Atlantic Tierra del Similar to Present Present Mostly youngs ND Borrero (1986) and
Fuego guanaco Muñoz (2004a,
2005)
Lancha Packewaia D Beagle channel Similar to Present Dominant Mostly youngs Male dominated Orquera and Piana
guanaco (1993–1994) and
Schiavini (1993)
María Luisa A3 Atlantic Tierra del Secondary ND ND Mostly youngs Not informed Muñoz (2005)
Fuego
Punta María 2b Atlantic Tierra del Secondary ND ND Mostly youngs ND Muñoz (2005)
Fuego
Monte León cch4 Atlantic Patagonia Dominant Present Present Mostly youngs ND Caracotche et al.
(2005)
Punta María 2c Atlantic Tierra del Similar to ND ND Mostly youngs ND Muñoz (2005)
Fuego guanaco
ND no data
A.S. Muñoz
Table 13.4 Pinniped zooarchaeological information from seven archaeological assemblages corresponding to the Temporal Group 2
Geographical Pinniped O. flavescenes A. australis
Archaeological site area representation representation representation Age classes Sex proportions References
Lancha Packewaia D¢ Beagle Similar to Present Dominant All classes ND Orquera and Piana
channel guanaco in similar (1993–1994)
proportions
Lancha Packewaia X/Y Beagle channel Similar to ND Dominant ND Male dominated Orquera and Piana
guanaco (1993–1994) and
Schiavini (1993)
Camden 2 Otway sea Dominant Present ND ND ND San Román et al. (2002)
Ponsonby B Skyiring sea Secondary Present Present New born ND Legoupil (2003)
and adult
dominated
Lancha Packewaia E Beagle channel Dominant Present Dominant Mostly youngs ND Orquera and Piana
(1993–1994)
Túnel 1 D Beagle channel Dominant Present Dominant All classes A. australis Zangrando (2009)
male,
dominated,
O. flavescenes
female
dominated
Ponsonby C Skyiring sea Secondary ND ND Mostly adults ND Legoupil (2003)
Bahía Colorada Otway sea Dominant Present Dominant Mostly adults Male dominated Legoupil (1997)
Los Noruegos Otway sea Secondary ND ND ND ND San Román et al. (2002)
Bahía Buena Magellan strait Dominant Present Dominant Mostly adults Male dominated San Román (2008)
Ponsonby D Skyiring sea Secondary Present Present All classes ND Legoupil (2003)
in similar
proportions
Túnel 1 D includes fases I to VIII
ND no data
315
316
Table 13.5 Anatomical regions represented through NISP in Western Channels and atlantic Tierra del Fuego
Complete Bahía Bahia Punta Punta Punta María María Luisa
individual Punta Baja Colorada Buena María 2a María 2b 2c A3 Cerro Mesa
Head 4 882 187 575 15 10 9 11 11
Axial – including 70 3,696 1,396 2,157 87 112 51 259 35
innominate
Forelimb 8 373 275 364 22 15 11 38 1
Rearlimb 6 223 171 174 13 18 17 20 6
Flippers 270 1,069 1,859 621 52 89 57 137 9
Total 358 6,243 3,888 3,891 189 244 145 465 62
Data from Legoupil (1989: Tables 4 and 9) for Punta Baja and Legoupil (1997: Table 1) for Bahía Colorada, San Román (2008: Tabla 2) for Bahía Buena and
Muñoz (2004a; Table 13.4) for María Luisa and Punta María 2a, Muñoz (2003: Cuadro V.18) for Punta María 2b, Muñoz (2003: Cuadro V.28) for Punta María
2c and Muñoz (1996) for Cerro Mesa
A.S. Muñoz
Table 13.6 Anatomical regions represented through NISP in Beagle channel

Complete
individual LP B LP C LP D LP D¢ LP XY LP E
Head 4 61 25 42 17 25 51
Axial – including 70 411 116 196 111 238 349
innominate
Forelimb 8 179 62 71 19 44 68
Rearlimb 6 101 28 56 12 38 44
Flippers 270 375 50 96 21 63 106
Total 358 1,127 281 461 180 408 618
Data from Orquera and Piana (1993–1994: Cuadro XII)
LP Lancha Packewaia
Fig. 13.1 Geographical provenience of the zooarchaeological database analyzed. ML Monte

León; CV Cabo Vírgenes; BE Bloque Errático; SG San Génaro; LA Laguna Arcillosa; RC Río
Chico; PM Punta María; SP San Pablo; ML María Luisa; CM Cerro Mesa; RD Rancho Donata;
BV Bahía Valentín; IM Imiwaia; SH Shamakush; TU Túnel; LP Lancha Packewaia; ES Isla El
Salmón; BB Bahía Buena; PB Punta Baja; BC Bahía Colorada; CA Camden; PO Ponsonby;
LN Los Noruegos; RV Río Verde
Based on published data, Tables 13.1 and 13.2 which present the regional
pinniped data base are considered here. It consists of 52 assemblages from 31
archaeological sites. Sites with less than one square meter sampling were not
considered in the analysis. At this general level of analysis it can be seen that
zooarchaeological information on pinnipeds is quite uneven. At a first glance, this
database (see Tables 13.1 and 13.2, Figs. 13.1 and 13.2) shows that available
318 A.S. Muñoz
information is more abundant in Tierra del Fuego island (20 sites), both in the
atlantic and Beagle fronts (Lanata and Winograd 1988; Schiavini 1993; Horwitz
1995, 2004; Estevez Escalera 1996; Muñoz 1996, 2004a, b; Estévez Escalera and
Martínez Moreno 1997; Orquera and Piana 1999; Zangrando 2009) and more
limited in continental Southern Patagonia (11 sites, see Legoupil 1989, 1993–1994,
1997, 2003; Borrero and Franco 2005; Mansur 2008; San Roman 2008).
Nevertheless, data quality is not necessarily in agreement with this distribution. For
instance, temporal allocation shows a bias towards the West and Southern channels
where older assemblages are more abundant (16 out of 18 cases), while larger
assemblages are only represented in this area as well (Fig. 13.2). The former partly
relates to differences inherent to each kind of coast. The Pacific and Beagle channel
lack an important continental platform, and therefore did not suffer the conse-
quences of Quaternary see level oscillations as much as the Atlantic one, which was
substantially modified (see Salemme and Bujalesky 2000). This imposes some
difficulties when trying to study old records in the Atlantic coast since the coastline
is rapidly moving west (see Horwitz 2004: 31 for an example). The latter probably
derives both from the involved sampling techniques and the nature of the more
abundant archaeological deposits in each region, although this assumption remains
to be confirmed.
As Fig. 13.2 shows, the continental and Fueguian Atlantic front are dominated
by small recent assemblages, while in the western channels there are both small and
big assemblages with a broader temporal span. The Beagle channel displays almost
an even distribution of assemblage sizes and temporal allocations.
In sum, a reasonable number of archaeological sites have been found in all areas
where pinniped presence has been documented through their bones. Since bone
assemblages are not distributed homogeneously across space and time, a first con-
clusion would imply that the kind of research questions that can be approached
from this database is not even geographical or chronological.
100%
TG 2 more than 3000

75%
TG 2 301-3000
TG 2 0-300
50%
TG 1 more than 3000
25% TG1 301-3000
TG 1 0-300
0%
Atlantic Atlantic Tierra Western Beagle Channel
Patagonia del Fuego Channels
Fig. 13.2 Zooarchaeological assemblages according to size (NISP) and temporal group. N = 49
assemblages
100%
75%
TG 2
50%
TG 1
25%
0%
Atlantic Atlantic Tierra Western Beagle Channel
Patagonia del Fuego Channels
Fig. 13.3 Pinniped assemblages with bone composition data according to temporal groups
defined in this study. N = 22 assemblages
If we take a step beyond assemblage size and temporal allocation and introduce
data on bone assemblage composition, the sample is limited to 22 assemblages
from 12 archaeological sites (Tables 13.3 and 13.4). When considering pinniped
contribution to taxonomic diversity, species representation, and age and sex propor-
tions the sample clusters in two groups (Fig. 13.3). Assemblages from the Atlantic
front display this kind of information for TG 1 only. Assemblages from Western
and Southern channels display data for both temporal groups, although it is slightly
more abundant for TG 2.
More interesting, if we consider pinniped contribution to mammal diversity
according to geographical zone and time allocation we can find different patterns
(Fig. 13.4). It is noticeable that each geographical area has it own peculiarities,
although similarities can be found among very different settings, such as Atlantic
Patagonia TG 1 and Beagle Channel TG 2. These similarities can be extended to
the rest of the sample from these two geographical areas (including Beagle
Channel TG 1) since pinniped share similar proportions with guanaco bones
when they do not dominate. This is different to what can be found in the Western
channels where pinnipeds have a secondary place whenever do not have a clear
dominance (Fig. 13.4). Finally, Atlantic Tierra del Fuego shows a different
scenario since pinnipeds have a secondary place or equals guanaco bones in all
the available samples.
Tables 13.3 and 13.4 show that only one assemblage is dominated by O. flave-
scens (Punta Baja). This is the only female dominated assemblage as well. As it
will be seen later other lines of evidence also differentiate this assemblage from the
rest of the database, suggesting that it represents a segment of the range variation
not frequently represented in the region.
320 A.S. Muñoz
100%
75% secondary
50%
equal
25%
dominat
0%
Atlantic Atlantic Western Western Beagle Beagle
Patagonia Tierra del Channels Channels Channel Channel
TG1 Fuego TG1 TG1 TG2 TG1 TG2
Fig. 13.4 Pinniped contribution to mammal diversity represented in assemblages from different

geographical areas and temporal groups, as defined in this study
When age classes’ representation is considered it can be noticed that both

temporal groups differentiates clearly. TG 1 display a young dominated profile
independently of the geographical zone considered. TG 2, instead, presents a
more diverse scenario: all classes are represented in similar proportions in
assemblages where pinnipeds are equal or less than guanaco, but there is no pat-
tern in assemblages where the pinniped share varies relative to the complete
mammal assemblage (Tables 13.3 and 13.4). Finally, sex classes representation
show that most assemblages display a male dominated profile.
In sum, when species, age classes and sex data are included (Tables 13.3 and
13.4), it can be observed that pinnipeds are important but not necessarily the domi-
nant mammalian taxon in the TG 2. Guanaco MNI equals that of pinnipeds in two
of eleven assemblages and have a secondary place in other four assemblages.
Among pinnipeds, A. australis is the most frequent species in archaeological
assemblages but O. flavescens is also represented to some degree. Age classes also
vary, some assemblages being dominated by adults, but some others by young or
have an even representation of different age classes. Where sex of prey was identi-
fied, male is the most frequent category. Regarding TG 1, pinniped bone represen-
tation ranges from dominant to equal or even secondary in comparison to guanaco.
There are no assemblages in the Fueguian Atlantic coast for which pinnipeds are
the dominant taxon. Regarding intrataxonomic differentiation, available informa-
tion is uneven. It is scarce for the atlantic coast assemblages and diverse for other
samples. It shows one assemblage dominated by O. Flavescens and four others by
A. australis, but both species are usually represented at the same site as previously
noted. Age representation in these samples shows a different picture than the earlier
group, since all assemblages present a young-dominated profile. Finally, males are
important in bone samples where A. australis is the dominant pinniped taxon, while
female individuals outnumber males where O. flavescens prevails.
A step beyond this basic assemblage composition level requires to consider
pinniped anatomical representation per assemblage, although it must be said that
complete list of anatomical parts represented is only rarely available (see Legoupil
1989–1990, 1997; Orquera and Piana 1993–1994; Muñoz 1996, 2004a; San Roman
2008). This situation creates some restrictions and, hence, the following analysis
should be taken as exploratory, aimed at generating working hypotheses to be tested
as new data becomes available.
The comparison of the anatomical composition of the assemblages considered
has to be made at the NISP level because only some of them have informed MNE
values. This could overestimate axial bones due to fragmentation and unfused
bones, particularly in assemblages dominated by young individuals, but as can be
seen below this was not the case in most samples.
Figure 13.5 shows the relationship of head to appendicular bones – excluding
flippers – in one axis and the relationship of appendicular to flippers bones in the
other. The rhomboid dot represents the expected proportions according to what is
found in a complete individual, based on MNE counts. The square dots are Late
Holocene assemblages and the triangular ones the earlier assemblages.
The general pattern when considering all assemblages may be described as one
with fewer flippers than appendicular bones as compared to what can be expected
if individuals had been deposited and preserved complete. Secondly, head bones
tend to be well represented in relation to what we expect in complete individuals,
with three exceptions: Bahia Buena, Punta Baja and Cerro Mesa, where head bones
outnumber the appendicular ones. This is interesting because both assemblages
differ in size and correspond to different temporal groups and to different environ-
mental settings (Magellan Strait and Fueguian Atlantic coast, respectively). This
suggests that a similar zooarchaeological signature can be found under different
2
Recent assemblages
Early assemblages
ar-flippers
apendicul
1
Cerro Mesa
Bahìa Buena Punta Baja
Complete
individual
0
0 1 2
head-apendicular
Fig. 13.5 Pinniped bone assemblages anatomical representation compared

322 A.S. Muñoz
temporal, environmental and cultural contexts, at least when bone representation is

considered. The assemblages closest to the expected value are Bahia Colorada and
Punta Maria 2b.
A third general observation has to do with anatomical representation according
to chronology. Figure 13.5 show that both datasets overlap quite well having both
datasets outliers in the same direction, probably showing similar biases. Nevertheless,
it can be noticed that recent assemblages embrace a bigger spread of dots.
In sum, analyzed data cover a great deal of Southern Patagonia although not the
whole area. Where information is available, it shows that pinnipeds are the domi-
nant mammalian taxon in almost half of the assemblages. Both pinniped species are
present in almost every assemblage, with varying proportions of each. Recent
assemblages show a young-dominated pattern while earlier ones display a more
varied picture. It should be noticed that a young-dominated profile has also been
found in different contexts in other regions of the world, such as Mid-Holocene
Baltic sea (Lŏugas 1997) and Holocene North American West coast (Porcasi et al.
2000), and could be the result of predating on defenseless individuals and privileg-
ing yield maximization rather than resource preservation. Sex composition is more
difficult to interpret (see Section “Methodology”), and while available data suggest
male captures could have been more important than female ones, it should be
explored if this depends on pinniped species.
Head-appendicular ratios vary but generally head bones tend to be well repre-
sented in all assemblages and outnumbering appendicular ones in part of the
sample. Bahia Colorada and Punta Maria 2b display the anatomical composition
closest to complete individuals, suggesting that there are conditions under which
a similar zooarchaeological signature can be obtained in spite of contextual dif-
ferences. Some other characteristics are common two all assemblages regardless
temporal, geographical and cultural variation, namely the low representation of
flippers. This is something to be expected according to zooarchaeological assem-
blages from New Zealand, Tasmania, South Africa, and elsewhere (Anderson
1988; Bowdler 1988; Klein et al. 1999). This could have a taphonomic explana-
tion such us its fragility, derived from the cartilaginous nature of carpal and tarsal
bones of young individuals (Legoupil 1989), the small size of flipper bones
which may be lost or not recovered (Muñoz 2005), the result of carnivore con-
sumption (Orquera and Piana 1999), or even a cultural bias due to differential
refusal (San Roman 2008).
Discussion
A great deal has been learnt so far on Holocene human-pinniped relationships in

this region (Lanata and Winograd 1988; Legoupil 1989, 1993–1994, 1997, 2000;
Borrero 1990; Lanata and Borrero 1992, 1994; Schiavini 1992, 1993; Estevez
Escalera 1996; Estévez Escalera and Martínez Moreno 1997; Orquera and Piana
1993–1994, 1999; Muñoz 1996, 2004a, b; San Roman 2008). Nevertheless, the
variation involved in the dichotomy between marine vs. terrestrial hunter–gatherers

is zooarchaeologically poorly known, and the complexity of these strategies and the
degree to which they might overlap remains to be fully understood.
It should be noticed that zooarchaeological evidence suggests no clear partition
between marine and terrestrial foragers in Southern Patagonia. This is suggested by
bone assemblages with variable importance of terrestrial and marine mammals
attributable to each of these economic strategies throughout the Holocene (see
Orquera and Piana 1996; Borrero 1997; San Roman et al. 2002). Hence exploring
the reasons why this happens could help to elucidate zooarchaeological criteria to
understand the whole spectrum of human-pinniped relationships in this region. The
analysis of the regional database done in the previous section show that informa-
tion is not distributed evenly across Southern Patagonia geography. New samples
with more standardized data in all this geographical areas will probably help to
elucidate if patterns emerging after this review can be maintained, particularly the
range of variation in O. flavescens exploitation and the condition under which these
resources become dominant or secondary for human foragers strategies.
A general approach to overcome difficulties derived from generalizations made
upon economic types such as terrestrial and marine hunter–gatherers can be derived
from the way marine resources, and especially pinnipeds, contribute to the reliabil-
ity of human strategies (Yesner 1987). The author considers that it is precisely
spatial-temporal reliability what differentiates marine resources from terrestrial
ones. Understanding their impact on human strategies requires considering environ-
mental variables such as the relationships between terrestrial and marine resources,
the kind of coasts available, differences in pinniped social groups, and prey avail-
ability (isolated individuals, colonies, washed up carcasses, etc.).
Different aspects have to do with the relationships between terrestrial and
marine resources. It has been stressed that Southern Patagonia’s gradient of insu-
larization, derived from its peninsular shape, has specific biological and ecological
consequences and, hence, that climatic and ecological conditions do not conform to
the pattern generally expected for such a high latitude (Muñoz 2004a, 2005).
Additionally, an important area of Southern Patagonia is archipelagic, with islands
differing in size and distance from mainland. As a consequence, space and resources
are not homogeneous and biogeographical expectations should vary accordingly, as
well as resource spatial and temporal predictability (Muñoz 2004a, 2005). In this
context, pelagic fauna such as pinnipeds represents an energy subsidy as it does not
depend on littoral waters to feed, and thereby comprises a seasonally critical energy
input when littoral and inland productivity decreases (Schiavini 1993).
Coastal morphology is also relevant since it has to do not only with the potential
zooarchaeological record to study but also with resource distribution (pinnipeds
and also shell banks and fresh water). As previously noted, historical distribution
of pinniped colonies shows a patchy pattern along the Patagonian coast and, conse-
quently, pinniped zooarchaeological record in certain areas, such us the continental
Atlantic front, should be different from areas where the resource was more widely
available (e.g., eastern tip of Tierra del Fuego). This does not imply that areas with
probably less pinnipeds, such as the former, will not bear a diverse record, as
324 A.S. Muñoz
research in Punta Entrada (Cruz et al. 2009; Muñoz et al. 2009), Monte Léon
(Caracotche et al. 2005; Muñoz et al. 2009), Punta Bustamante (Mansur 2008), and
Cabo Vírgenes (Borrero and Franco 2005) indicates.
Pinniped availability and behavior also involves distinguishing between archae-
ofaunal assemblages originated by preying on isolated individuals, reproductive
colonies and rockeries, as has been highlighted in literature (e.g., Lyman 1988,
1991a, b). This distinction has implications when discussing adaptive and techno-
logical questions (e.g., Hildebrant and Jones 1992; Jones and Hildebrant 1995) and
even evolutionary ones (e.g., Marean 1986a, b; Binford 1984, 1986). Exploitation
of isolated individuals on the coast has often been related to the utilization of car-
casses deposited by the sea, through scavenging, or by capturing subadult or ill
individuals for instance; see Marean (1986a, b), Stockton (1982 in Bryden et al.
1999) and Klein et al. (1999). Exploitation of colonies, instead, would have been
carried out mostly through hunting. Establishing whether it was colonies that were
exploited and distinguishing among their different types – reproductive or resting –
though, requires inferring age and sex representation in archaeological collections
(Lyman 1991a, b; Jones and Hildebrant 1995; Bryden et al. 1999). It should be
noticed that Borella (2006) has proposed that predating on O. flavescens breeding
colonies would derive in a different sex and age pattern from that inferred by
Lyman (1991a) for the North American coast, due to differences in the pinniped
species involved.
Regarding butchery, Muñoz (2005) has found that final carcass disorganization
is more important a source of variability than is differential transport in four pin-
niped zooarchaeological assemblages from the Fueguian Atlantic coast, usually
considered as belonging to terrestrial hunters. Interestingly, zooarchaeological data
show similarities with pinniped assemblages from the Southern coast of the island,
an area considered to be of maritime hunter–gatherers (Estévez Escalera and
Martínez Moreno 1997). This suggests that other variables, such as sharing among
social units, can result in an overlapping of zooarchaeological signatures, making
it difficult to distinguish among different general economic strategies.
A Future Research Agenda
Zooarchaeology and taphonomy can make a substantial contribution not just to

decomposing the dichotomy between marine vs. terrestrial Patagonian hunter–
gatherers, but also to comprehending the whole range of variation between and
within the strategies encompassed in these categories. In order to do so, refinement
of conceptual tools is necessary so as to be able not just to infer human responses
different from those witnessed in recent times through the ethnographic record, but
also to integrate available taphonomic and zooarchaeological knowledge.
Several issues can be derived from the previous sections to propose a future
research agenda. Research is needed on pinnipeds as palaeoecological indicators
(see Borrero 2004) as well as isotopic tracking to understanding pinniped past

distribution (Burton et al. 2002). Exploring if predation on A. australis on the
Atlantic coast represents a distinct pattern as compared to O. flavescens would also
help to discuss if different pinniped species involve varying predation strategies.
The impact of sealing on past pinniped distribution requires a more thorough
exploration in order to model present pinniped distribution data and its consequences
to past human-pinnipeds relationships. As previously mentioned, zooarchaeological
methods applied to pinniped studies would be improved by refining research tools
such as those identifying intra- and interspecific variability, bone fusion sequence
and weathering in different depositional environments. Pinniped taphonomy also
requires long-term systematic observations on carcass disarticulation.
This way, research in this part of the world can contribute to the study of current
perspectives on human-pinniped interactions worldwide, by integrating new
instances of them from a context quite different from those where most information
comes from.
Acknowledgements I am grateful to the editors for their invitation to prepare this paper and
Florencia Borella, Enrique Crespo, Patricia Lobbia, and Francisco Zangrando for references and
bibliography. To Nuno Ferreira Bicho and an anonymous reviewer whose comments helped to
improve the manuscript. This contribution is a result of the research projects Arqueología
Ambiental en la costa sur de Patagonia and Bioarqueología y conservación del registro arque-
ológico en la costa sur de Patagonia funded by CONICET (PIP 112 200801 00996) and
Universidad de Buenos Aires (UBACyT F447 and UBACyT 20020090200015).
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Chapter 14
The Use of the Space in the Pampean Atlantic
Coast and the Adjacent Plains (Argentina,
South America): A Comparative View
Mariano Bonomo
Introduction
The archaeological record from different Atlantic littoral regions of Southern

South America shows a clear intensive use of marine resources mainly since 6000
RCYBP, after the global Middle Holocene Marine Transgression. This evidence
became observable in the shell mounds of Southern Brazil (Gaspar et al. 2008;
Lima 1999–2000), Uruguay (Castiñeira et al. 2010; Inda et al. 2006), and Patagonia
(Borella and Favier Dubois 2009; Gómez Otero 2007; Moreno 2008; Sanguinetti
de Bórmida 1999, among others). Moreover, in the island zone of Southern
Patagonia, the Beagle Channel, and the Magallanian Strait were inhabited by
coastal populations that also formed shell mounds. These societies were adapted to
the exploitation of marine fauna with special technological equipment prepared for
that purpose (i.e., harpoons and canoes) (Legoupil 2003; Orquera and Piana 1999;
Vila et al. 1995; Zangrando 2009). Unlike the Atlantic sector, the Pacific coast of
South America shows that maritime adaptations are very nearly as old as the
presence of human groups in the continent (Sandweiss 2008:145). The coast of
Peru and Northern Chile presents evidence of marine mollusks consumption dated
to the Late Pleistocene and the Early Holocene (Jackson and Báez 2005; Llagostera
1992; Sandweiss 2003).
In the specific case of the Pampean coast, several authors claimed during the
twentieth century the hypothesis that human groups living on the Atlantic coast
primarily exploited the available marine resources, especially shellfish (e.g., Ameg-
hino 1910; Bórmida 1969; Menghín 1963; Mesa and Conlazo 1982). According to
this idea, these coastal populations were different from the terrestrial hunter-
gatherers inhabiting inland Pampean plains. However, detailed studies to test this
hypothesis had not been carried out on the Pampean coast until 1999, when a systematic
M. Bonomo (*)
CONICET, Departamento Científico de Arqueología, Facultad de Ciencias Naturales y Museo
(UNLP) Pase del bosque s/nº, (1900) La Plata, Argentina
334 M. Bonomo
regional archaeological research begun (Bonomo 2004). The aim of this paper is to
evaluate the use of the Pampean seashore and more specifically the importance of
coastal resources in the subsistence and technology of Middle and Late Holocene
hunter-gatherers. Taking into account the South American evidence in a suprare-
gional scale, an occupational model of the Pampean coast is proposed.
The South American Background
The Pampean coast is located between two vast Atlantic littoral areas that reveal a
clear economic utilization of marine fauna: Brazil–Uruguay in the North and some
sectors of Patagonia in the South (Fig. 14.1). On the coast of Central and Southern
Brazil, large and numerous archaeological accumulations of marine mollusks dis-
tributed from Baia de Todos os Santos to Rio Grande do Sul States have been
recorded (Gaspar et al. 2008; Lima 1999–2000; Prous 1992). These shell concen-
trations denominated sambaquis reach heights from 2 to 50 mts and maximum sizes
of 200 mts. The sambaquis have been formed by the progressive and intentional
accumulation of tons of mollusk waste with other materials such as fish, crustacean
and mammal remains, seeds, lithic and bone tools, adornments, human bones, etc.
Fig. 14.1 South American Atlantic littoral region. Shell mounds of Southern Brazil (Garopa do
Sul), Uruguay (La Esmeralda), and Northern Patagonia (Faro San Matías)
14 The Use of the Space in the Pampean Atlantic Coast and the Adjacent Plains 335
Most of these coastal sites yielded ages between 6,000 and 1,000 RCYBP (Lima
1999–2000), although new information from underwater shell mounds shows dates
of 8,000 RCYBP (Calippo 2006), indicating a chronological bias due to the shore-
line fluctuations during postglacial sea-level changes (see Angulo et al. 2006).
In general, the Brazilian shell middens were simultaneously domestic and
collective funerary spaces and the product of successive and long-term occupa-
tions by marine-specialized hunters, gatherers, and fishers (Gaspar 2000).
Although a great diversity of mollusk species were intensely utilized for feeding
purposes (Anomalacardia brasiliana, Mytilus perna, Phacoides pectinatus,
Olivancillaria brasiliensis, Donax hanleyanus, Brachidontes purpuratus, Anadara
sp., Cardium sp., Ostrea sp.; Horn Filho et al. 1995), they did not constitute the
prime resource exploited by these populations, which was the fish (e.g., Figuti
1993). In addition, the mollusks gathered were used for multiple purposes like
mound-building elements and raw materials for tools (Figuti and Magalhães
Klökler 2000; Lima 1999–2000). New research recognized that people who
constructed the sambaquis were sedentary societies that evolved toward more
complex patterns of social organization (Gaspar et al. 2008:323; see also DeBlasis
et al. 1998; Lima and López 2000).
In Uruguay, coastal contexts linked to inland groups named “constructores
de cerritos” show evidence of exploitation of marine mollusks, otariids, cetaceans,
crustaceans, and fish from 4,500 RCYBP (López 1994–1995). The bivalve anthropic
concentrations of La Esmeralda coastal site (Department of Rocha) is the most out-
standing context (Fig. 14.1). These shell mounds, known as “concheros,” are on aver-
age 40 cm thick and are constituted mainly by surf clams (D. hanleyanus). However,
other mollusk taxa, fish, marine or terrestrial birds and mammals, lithic artifacts, bone
tools, and charcoal remains have been found (Inda et al. 2006). La Esmeralda has
been interpreted as a result of seasonal occupations where marine shellfish banks
have been intensively exploited between 3,000 and 1,000 RCYBP (Castiñeira et al.
2010).
In different zones of the Patagonian Atlantic coast, numerous concheros com-
posed of marine bivalves and gastropods show the systematic exploitation of shell-
fish. Within the sedimentary matrix of these invertebrate deposits archaeological
materials such as lithic artifacts, pottery, shell tools, hearth features, and remains of
terrestrial mammals, otariids, cetaceans, birds, fish, and crustaceans are included.
In Northern Patagonia (extending from San Blas Peninsula to San Matías Gulf)
surface shell accumulations of few centimeters to 5 mts of maximum thickness and
4–80 mts long were observed (Fig. 14.1). They are mainly constituted by clam and
mussel shells (Mesodesma mactroides, Eurhomalea exalbida, Mactra isabelleana,
Brachydontes sp., Mytilus edulis platensis, Aulacomya ater) and found to be
chronologically ranging from 5,300 to 570 RCYBP (Borella and Favier Dubois
2009; Bórmida 1964; Sanguinetti de Bórmida 1999). The concheros of Central
Patagonia (from San Jose Gulf to Blanco Cape) display the regular consumption of
mussel and clam intertidal bivalves (Aulacomya sp., Mytilus sp., Brachidontes sp.)
and gastropods (Patinigera sp., Buccinanops sp.) between 7,400 and 400 RCYBP
(Gómez Otero 2007). The coastal contexts of Southern Patagonia (North of Santa
336 M. Bonomo
Cruz) were also composed of high proportions of Patinigera and Mytilus and have
chronologies from 6,300 to 900 RCYBP. It has been proposed that the mollusks
were not the main resource of the population diet but a necessary food reserve for
coastal occupation of the area (Moreno 2008; Zubimendi et al. 2005).
The Northern Patagonia concheros have been interpreted by Bórmida (1964,
1969), as the result of intense and continuous occupations of waterside environ-
ments by Patagonian and Pampean groups with a subsistence based on marine
resources. These societies were pushed aside to the coast by the expansion of more
“technologically evolved” inland hunters. This kind of marginal characterization of
coastal environments and their populations have been recently criticized, and the
importance of marine habitats along the evolution of Homo sapiens have been
remarked (Bailey and Milner 2002; Bicho and Haws 2008; Erlandson 2001).
The Pampean Coastal Archaeological Record
To start with the analysis of the use of space on the Pampean coast, a brief character-
ization of both the key environmental elements and the main resources available is
needed. The geographical area of study (38°2¢–38°55¢S, 57°30¢–60°30¢W; Fig. 14.2)
has a temperate humid climate moderated by the Atlantic Ocean with average
temperatures of 14°C and mean yearly precipitations of 850 mm. Located between
the Tandilia and Ventania mountain ranges, this area spans more than 290 km along
the Atlantic coast of the Interserrana area in the Pampas grassland plains in
Argentina. In most fluvial systems of this zone, the Middle Holocene sea-level rise
invaded a narrow border of land (ca. 2–10 km) from the present shoreline of the
Argentine Sea (Isla 1995). A lower coast with a continuous barrier of dunes was
formed since 6,000 RCYBP (Isla et al. 2001), after the Middle Holocene eustatic
regression. This dune barrier named as Barrera Austral is up to 3.5 km maximum
width and is separated into three longitudinal landforms parallel to the shore
(Frenguelli 1931). The first zone adjacent to the sandy beach is classified as a moving
dune line with scarce herbaceous communities, which continuously changes its shape
due to wind action. The next zone toward the hinterland consists of semifixed dune
fields with moderate vegetation. The third zone is composed of a larger region of fixed
sandy sediments, which is more stable and heavily vegetated than the middle zone.
Coastal resources include secondary lithic deposits of abundant volcanic beach
cobbles (basalt, andesite, dacite, ignimbrite, rhyolite, tuff, etc.) with oblate and lami-
nar shapes and maximum diameters of 15 cm (Bonomo and Prates 2009 and refer-
ences cited therein). The lithology, shape, size, and the particular cortex formed by
mechanical weathering permit a clear identification of the coastal origin of these
cobbles. Faunal resources include seals (Arctocephalus australis) and sea lions
(Otaria flavescens) otariids, as well as intertidal or estuarine shellfish (M. mactroides,
D. hanleyanus, Brachidontes rodriguezi, Tagelus plebeius, M. isabelleana, among
others). Within the dune zone, there is terrestrial fauna such as the tuco-tuco rodent
Fig. 14.2 Geographical distribution of the archaeological sites detected on the study area
mentioned in the text. 1 Alfar; 2 Playa Las Palomas; 3 La Estafeta 1; 4 Laguna La Ballenera;
5 Arroyo La Ballenera; 6 Mar del Sur; 7 La Eufemia; 8 Bellamar 1, 2 and 3; 9 Nutria Mansa 1
and 2; 10 Moromar; 11 El Moro 1 and 2; 12 Arenas Verdes 1 and 3; 13 Playa Verde; 14 Quequén
Grande 1; 15 Quequén Grande 2; 16 Los Médanos 1, 2, 3 and 4; 17 Faro Guaraní; 18 Pozo Alonso;
19 Claromecó 1; 20 Caracolero; 21 Quequén Salado 1
(Ctenomys talarum and Ctenomys australis), the ñandú flightless bird (Rhea americana),
and probably in the past the guanaco wild camelid (Lama guanicoe).
Apart from that, in the interior of the Tandilia Mountain Range, there are local-
ized sources of Precambrian/Paleozoic sedimentary rocks. In these primary sources,
there are fine-grained quartzite (named Grupo Sierras Bayas ortoquartzite; Bayón
et al. 1999), which is the most abundant raw material in inland Pampean sites.
There is also chalcedony or chert, especially from the base of Cerro Largo
Formation (Messineo et al. 2004). The outcrops and archaeological quarries are
located more than 80 km from the coast. The human groups that occupied the
coastal sites also used these inland sedimentary lithic raw materials.
In addition to the clear distinctions in fauna and lithic raw material distributions,
it was observed that the zones of moving dunes, semifixed and fixed dunes and
plains also presented distinctive archaeological patterns (Bonomo 2004). In order
to evaluate this observation, 30 surface and buried sites detected during systematic
survey as well as 28 museum collections were analyzed.
338 M. Bonomo
The Dune Line Record
Lithic materials without chronological control constitute the majority of the existing
evidence to understand the past human occupation of the dune line. Surface sites are
widely extended across the moving dunes in close relation with the present shoreline.
They are located in blowout depressions overlying sediments consolidated by
calcium carbonate. About all of the sites (n = 16) detected in the dunes contain mostly
lithic artifacts of coastal raw materials (90%; Table 14.1). These sites are related to
workshop activities, consisting of an abundance of cores and flakes produced by
bipolar reduction of volcanic beach cobbles. Unifacial flake tools with minor retouch
confined to the edges, anvils and hammers of these coastal materials were also
recorded, as well as a few tools and flakes manufactured from inland quartzite and
chalcedony. Based on the analysis (Bonomo 2004), most places located within the
dune line sector were used for conducting specific tasks. More specifically, such
activities included the reduction of local cobbles to produce tools with minimal modi-
fication as an expedient technological strategy (sensu Binford 1979). Except for
ñandu eggshells, faunal remains were not recovered during our research in the dune
zone. The presence of ñandú eggshells found in several of the studied contexts sug-
gests that at least some of them were occupied in spring or summertime.
Table 14.1 Lithic artifacts from the archaeological sites of the dunes

Tools Cores Flakes
Site C I C I C I Total
MDS 8 1 62 0 141 13 225
LEU 4 0 21 0 112 38 175
Be1 6 5 77 0 1,018 26 1,132
Be2 6 2 14 0 50 2 74
Be3 11 15 366 0 669 164 1,225
Mo 4 0 212 0 72 7 295
EM1 0 0 2 0 28 58 88
EM2 1 0 11 0 27 2 41
AV1 1 12 10 1 16 55 95
AV3 1 0 48 0 461 0 510
PV 0 0 15 0 18 8 41
LM1 0 0 12 0 33 0 45
LM2 0 0 8 0 35 4 47
LM3 1 0 17 0 29 3 50
LM4 2 0 15 0 43 2 62
FG 2 0 43 0 75 2 122
PA 1 0 24 0 41 0 66
Car 0 1 4 0 80 17 102
Total 48 36 961 1 2,948 401 4,395
MDS Mar del Sur archaeological site; LEU La Eufemia site; Be1 Bellamar 1 site; Be2 Bellamar 2
site; Be3 Bellamar 3 site; Mo Moromar site; EM1 El Moro 1 site; EM2 El Moro 2 site; AV1 Arenas
Verdes 1 site; AV3 Arenas Verdes 3 site; PV Playa Verde site; LM1 Los Médanos 1 site; LM2 Los
Médanos 2 site; LM3 Los Médanos 3 site; LM4 Los Médanos 4 site; FG Faro Guaraní site; PA
Pozo Alonso site; Car Caracolero site; C coastal lithic raw materials; I inland raw materials
The human groups that occupied the coast might also have exploited marine
fauna and terrestrial animals that inhabited this arid ecological zone. In addition to
flake tools, the presence of bola stones (n = 30) and arrow size projectile points
(more than 18 Late Holocene small triangular points) in museum collections from
the dune line suggests that past societies may have hunted and processed marine
and terrestrial animals. The practice of sealing with bola stones has been described
in post-Hispanic documents (Sánchez Labrador [1772] 1936). On the contrary, at
Monte Hermoso coast, which is directly adjacent to the study area, La Olla 1 strati-
fied site provides evidence of butchering and processing of a great number of
otariids (minimal number of individuals – MNI = 41) chronologically dated between
7,300 and 6,600 RCYBP (Bayón and Politis 1996). Bone tools made of sea mam-
mals’ long bones for butchery and hide preparation purposes have also been recov-
ered (Johnson et al. 2000). In addition, the study area faunal record of some surface
dune sites reported by other authors (e.g., Aparicio 1932; Hrdlička 1912; Torres and
Ameghino 1913) and the new evidence from Alfar stratigraphic site (General
Pueyrredón District) present otariids’ bone remains.
The Alfar archaeological site (Fig. 14.3; Bonomo and Leon 2010) is located on
the right margin of Corrientes stream and 0.65 km northwest from modern littoral,
next to a historical colony of sea lions. Recently, in 2006 a total surface of 17 m2
has been excavated, where more than 3,433 lithic artifacts and 8,945 faunal remains
Fig. 14.3 Alfar archaeological site. (a) Excavation view; (b) flake and core tools made of coastal
cobbles and (c) humerus of Otariidae with cut marks
340 M. Bonomo
Table 14.2 Radiocarbon dates obtained from the coastal archaeological sites of the study area
14
C dates
Site Lab. No. Material (RCYBP) d 13C (‰) References
Alfar AA82081 Seal tooth 5,704 ± 64 −11.5 Bonomo and Leon (2009)
Nutria Mansa 1 AA55114 Guanaco teeth 2,705 ± 66 −25.3 Bonomo (2004)
Nutria Mansa 1 AA55115 Guanaco teeth 3,080 ± 110 −25.9 Bonomo (2004)
Nutria Mansa 1 AA55116 Guanaco tooth 2,920 ± 110 −24.6 Bonomo (2004)
Claromecó 1 AA64621 Mammal bone 800 ± 34 −21.2 Bonomo et al. (2008b)
Quequén Salado 1 Beta-169820 Guanaco bone 360 ± 40 −18.6 Madrid et al. (2002)
Quequén Salado 1 Beta-157398 Guanaco bone 790 ± 40 −19 Madrid et al. (2002)
were recovered. The archaeological remains were deposited on the edge of an

ancient pool of the dune line. Radiocarbon age of 5,700 RCYBP (Table 14.2) places
the human occupation within the Hypsithermal (= Climatic Optimum) range. In
concordance, palaeobotanical analyses indicate that the site was occupied under
dryness conditions during a warm event (Bonomo et al. 2008a).
The main resources exploited in Alfar were coastal cobbles (93%) reduced by
bipolar technique and marine otariids (Otaridae; MNI = 7; MNE = 175). Other
marine (Amiantis purpurata, M. mactroides, Spheniscus sp., Cetacea) and continen-
tal taxa (L. guanicoe, Ozotoceros bezoarticus, Ctenomys sp., Rehidae, etc.) were
recorded (Bonomo and Leon 2010). As in the surface dune sites, the most abundant
lithic artifacts are flakes (92%), followed by bipolar cores (7%) and scarce unifacial
flake tools, hammers, and anvils (1%). The abundance of otariid skeletal parts in
association with a coastal lithic technology shows the relevance of this site to
understand the lithic surface contexts from the dune line sector with low bone pres-
ervation and also to evaluate the role played by sea mammals in the subsistence of
past hunter-gatherers.
Moving inland in the dune barrier, a progressive increase in the use of lithic
resources transported from the Tandilia Mountain Range is noted. In contrast to
Alfar site and the 16 workshops located in the dune line, two surface sites (Arenas
Verdes 1 and El Moro 1) placed in the interior of the dune barrier are dominated
by inland raw materials (71 and 66%, respectively), mainly quartzite from
Tandilia (Table 14.1). This prevalence of raw material from distant locations
indicates that alternative activities, apart from toolmaking with local rocks, were
carried out.
Very few coastal sites were interpreted as multiple activities. In general,
grinding stones and pottery are scarce in the dune line record. However, La
Ballenera (MLP – Museo de La Plata collection) and Cristiano Muerto (MLP)
museum collections with abundant inland raw materials as well as a few mortars,
mills, hand stones, and pottery have been recorded. These assemblages were
located in the internal dune zone consolidated by herbaceous vegetation
(see similar observations in Politis 1984:310). Mortars and mills are heavy tools
with long use life, little transportability, and frequently reused by subsequent
occupations of the same site (Adams 1999; Wright 1994). The predominance of
distant raw materials and the presence of artifacts related to domestic tasks in
the interior semifixed and fixed dunes suggest more generalized activities at
these places than in sites located in the moving dune zone. Taking into account the
above information and the earlier ages of pottery in the Pampean region (i.e.,
3,000 RCYBP; Politis et al. 2001), such contexts could be classified as Late
Holocene residential camps.
The Plains Record
The archaeological record of the plains nearby the coast contrast with the dune
evidence. Twelve archaeological sites and three Museum collections have been
included in the study of this area for the purpose of this chapter. Nutria Mansa 1
(NM1), Claromecó 1 (CL1), and Quequén Salado 1 (QS1) sites (Fig. 14.4) have
been analyzed in greater detail due to their stratigraphic position and to the preser-
vation of faunal remains that permit to establish their absolute chronologies. The
main results of these three sites are summarized below.
NM1 stratigraphic site (Bonomo 2004) is located on the left margin of the hom-
onymous stream (General Alvarado District) and in a 3.5-km straight line distance
from the present coastline. Numerous bone specimens, lithic materials, mineral
pigments, and coastal cobbles without anthropic modification have been found in a
total excavated area of 23 m2. Three AMS radiocarbon dates yielded ages between
2,700 and 3,100 RCYBP (Table 14.2).
Diverse lithic materials of different origins were utilized in the site (n = 1,603;
5 of them include rocks of undetermined origin). However, the inland raw materials
(89%; mainly Tandilia quartzite) are predominant over the coastal cobbles (11%;
Table 14.3). The most abundant artifacts are flakes (70%), followed by tools (27%)
and cores (3%; and mostly bipolar cores). Scrapers, side-scrapers, drills, knives,
and other unifacial flake tools were recovered. Also, bola stones, hand stones, mills,
hammers, and anvils were recorded, showing a significant typological variability.
The general tendencies of the lithic assemblage indicate that the raw material
reduction took place in the site mainly oriented to flake production for making
retouched tools.
The best represented species is L. guanicoe (guanaco; MNI = 60) out of the total
faunal specimens quantified (n = 142,732). A wide range of skeletal parts is repre-
sented. However, the appendicular bones (MNE = 1,093) are more frequent than the
axial skeleton (MNE = 135). In addition, faunal remains corresponding to an open
sea fish and several mammals taxa (n = 26), including two teeth of Carcharodon
carcharias (MNE = 2; white shark) and otariid bones (MNE = 3) have been recov-
ered. The root tips of these shark teeth present an artificial transversal trench fitted
to tie a thread. Moreover, the edge serrations are strongly eroded, suggesting that
they have been also used as tools (Cione and Bonomo 2003).
Fig. 14.4 Archaeological sites of the plains behind the coast. Nutria Mansa 1 (NM1): (a) excava-
tion general view, (b) quartzite diverse type flake tools, and (c) guanaco bone concentration.
Claromecó 1 (CL1): (a) excavation view; (b) projectile points and preforms of coastal cobbles,
and (c) guanaco mandibles. Quequén Salado 1 (QS1): (a) excavation view, (b) flake tools, and (c) cores
of inland and coastal raw materials
Table 14.3 Lithic artifacts from the archaeological sites of plains near the coast
Tools Cores Flakes
Site C I C I C I Total
PLP 0 0 0 0 2 80 82
LE1 1 13 9 0 38 363 424
NM1 43 381 35 13 102 1,024 1,598
NM1sup 4 30 10 2 23 54 123
NM2sup 4 121 57 6 46 633 867
ALB 0 5 0 1 6 50 62
LLB 1 1 5 1 59 39 106
QG1 1 9 0 3 8 55 76
QG2 1 2 1 0 28 64 96
CL1 12 1 38 0 336 13 400
QS1 17 35 5 6 289 520 872
Total 84 598 160 32 937 2,895 4,706
PLP Playa Las Palomas site; LE1 La Estafeta 1 site; NM1 Nutria Mansa 1 site; NM1sup Nutria
Mansa 1 surface site; NM2sup Nutria Mansa 2 surface site; ALB Arroyo La Ballenera site; LLB
Laguna La Ballenera site; QG1 Quequén Grande 1 site; QG2 Quequén Grande 2 site; CL1
Claromecó 1 site; QS1 Quequén Salado 1 site; C coastal lithic raw materials; I inland raw materials
Hunter-gatherer groups that occupied this site processed guanaco carcasses for
obtaining meat, fat, hide, and marrow. Skeletal parts diversity might be explained as
most guanacos have been hunted in the site nearby and selection and transport of
anatomical units have not been necessary. The results of the lithic technotypologi-
cal analysis indicate that several artifact manufacturing activities, including core
reduction to tool maintenance, have been conducted in the site. All these evidences
suggest the accomplishment of a great variety of tasks or multiple activities in this
riverine environment during the beginnings of the Late Holocene.
CL1 archaeological site (Bonomo et al. 2008b) is located on the left margin of
the Claromecó stream (Tres Arroyos District) and 3 km away from the Atlantic
coast. A total surface of 21 m2 has been excavated in two field seasons carried out
in 2004 and 2005. The archaeological material recovered include 423 lithic artifacts
(23 of them include raw materials of undetermined origin), 2 mineral pigments, 87
pottery sherds, 4,494 quantified faunal remains, 6 unmodified coastal cobbles, and
2 fragments of petrified wood. The site chronology indicates an age of 800 RCYBP
for the human occupation (Table 14.2).
Faunal analysis indicates the presence of guanaco, Pampean deer (O. bezoar-
ticus), vizcacha rodent (Lagostomus sp.), tuco-tuco (Ctenomys sp.), armadillo
(Chaetophractus villosus) dermal plates, ñandú (R. americana) bones and egg-
shells, and a marine gastropod (Zidona sp.). The guanaco predominance (MNI = 5;
MNE = 66), the presence of bone helical fracture debris, and thermally altered
eggshells are important features of the site. The lithic technomorphological
study exhibits a clear prevalence of coastal raw materials (96%) in comparison to
inland rocks (4%; Table 14.3). The best represented categories are flakes (88%),
followed by bipolar cores (9%) and tools (3%), which include four small triangular
projectile points.
344 M. Bonomo
CL1 is a Late Holocene site located adjacent to the coast, whose lithic material
sources are located in the coast and in Tandilia Mountain Range. A remarkable
aspect on lithic technology is the high proportion of coastal cobbles knapped by
bipolar technique and the lower frequency of inland rocks. These characteristics
differentiate this assemblage from the majority of the other Pampean sites from the
plains and the mountain ranges. However, the faunal exploitation in CL1 is mainly
of continental origin.
QS1 (Madrid et al. 2002) is situated on the left margin of the homonymous river
(Tres Arroyos District) and 11 km inland from the coastline. A total surface of
25 m2 have been excavated and 4,559 lithic artifacts, 15 pottery sherds, over 3,800
faunal remains, 204 mineral pigment fragments, and 2 unmodified coastal cobbles
have been recovered. Four AMS radiometric dates situate the chronology of the
human occupations toward the end of the Late Holocene, between 1,000 and 320
RCYBP (Table 14.2).
The preliminary analysis of faunal remains (Rodríguez Loredo 2001) indicates
that L. guanicoe (MNI = 6) is the dominant species. In addition to guanaco, other
taxa have been identified: Artyodactila indet., O. bezoarticus, Carnivore indet.,
Dasipodidae indet., Rodentia indet., Cavia sp., and Birds indet. The lithic sample
analyzed (n = 943; it include 71 items of undetermined origin) shows that artifacts
manufactured on inland raw materials are the most abundant (64%), although
coastal materials are also present in high frequency (36%). Flakes (93%) are pre-
dominant in relation to tools (6%) and cores (1%; Table 14.3). The most common
knapped tool types are side-scrapers, scrapers, nondifferentiated flake fragments
with retouched edges, and small triangular projectile points (Bonomo 2004).
As NM1 and CL1, QS1 presents an archaeological assemblage that shares spe-
cific coastal and inland characteristics. Like in near all Pampean sites (Alfar and La
Olla 1 Early-Middle Holocene sites are exceptions), the exploitation of continental
mammals predominates. Although in low frequencies, marine resources such as
mollusk shells, white shark teeth, and seal bones have been also recovered (NM1
and CL1). Technologically, the use of inland rocks from Tandilia is important in
sites located near the cobble supplying area like in QS1 and also in NM1. The
coastal resources were utilized in a differential way. On the one hand, the elevated
percentage of coastal raw materials reduced by the bipolar technique is clear in CL1
and QS1, and it is greater than NM1, which is located in a similar environment
behind the line of dunes (though at different distances). These contexts have lithic
products with similar characteristics to those generated by coastal technologies
implemented in the workshops located in the dune line. On the other hand, the
marine fauna, such as otariids, is recorded in a low frequency in NM1 and was
either not exploited or not transported to the sites in CL1 and QS1.
To sum up, and considering all the assemblages recorded in the plains behind the
coast (12 sites and 3 collections), their archaeological records show differences to
the dune evidence for several reasons. In general, in those adjacent plains there are
large lithic assemblages where the retouched tools (14%) are more frequent than
cores (4%). In addition, edge retouched tools display an important diversity, and
most of the sites are mainly composed by inland rocks (88%) and by a minor
p roportion of coastal cobbles (12%), showing preference on quartzite at regional

level. Nevertheless, there are some contexts (CL1 and LLB) with a predominance
of cobbles (Table 14.3), which could represent a more intense coastal rock supply
in settlements that had little amounts of quartzite ready for use (see similar topics
in Hofman 1991).
The small sample of grinding tools recovered in the dunes (n = 16) contrasts with
the high frequency (n = 137) found in Nutria Mansa, La Ballenera, and Claromecó
streams located in the plains near the coast. In the latter, 465 pottery sherds have
been recorded. Furthermore, 16 large quartzite cores (5.9 kg maximum weight)
with an important potential for reduction have been found in the plains and were
absent in the dune line. These large quartzite cores have been arranged in places
where this rock was not naturally available, providing the sites with anthropic raw
material deposits for future use (see discussion in Martínez and Mackie 2003–2004).
This diversity of artifacts, added to the high proportion of transported raw materials
(from distances between 100 and 160 km), suggests that the majority of these sites
have been multiple activity sites and potentially residential camps.
Discussion
As it can be observed from the contexts where faunal remains have been preserved,
guanaco is the predominant resource in Late Holocene sites (NM1, CL1 and QS1).
In contrast to the low frequency or absence of marine fauna in those sites, in Middle
Holocene Alfar site seals are more important than guanaco. This faunal data match the
isotopic studies of human bones found in the area. Analysis of d13Ccol were carried out
in Late Holocene human skeletons from Laguna Tres Reyes 1 and El Guanaco inland
sites (105 and 13 km away from the modern littoral, respectively), and from the
Túmulo de Malacara coastal site of the study area (Flegenheimer et al. 2002; Politis
and Barrientos 1999). They suggest a similar diet in both environments based primarily
on products of continental origin with an occasional contribution of marine food.
Recent systematic stable isotopic analysis (Politis et al. 2009) has been per-
formed on collagen and apatite fractions from 31 human skeletons from Arroyo
Seco 2 (AS2) and 2 skeletons from Monte Hermoso 1 (MH1) earlier sites. AS2
(7,900–4,400 RCYBP) is located 50 km away from modern littoral and MH1
(7,900 and 6,500 RCYBP) is on the Atlantic coast, close to La Olla 1 site. The
information comes from 29 d13Ccol, 22 d13Cap, and 12 d15N values. Results show that
the diet of most of the individuals was based on terrestrial herbivores, which in turn
consumed type C3 plants. In contrast, three individuals (one from AS2 and two
from MH1) incorporated large amounts of marine food in the diet (Politis et al.
2009). Overall, this isotopic information probably suggests a more important con-
sumption of marine fauna in Early-Mid Holocene than in Late Holocene times.
Although there is a lack of chronological control for an important number of
sites in the study area, especially for surface contexts, coastal spaces were available
for human populations only after the Middle Holocene transgression (6,000 RCYBP).
346 M. Bonomo
Potential older coastal sites (Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene) could have been
covered and eroded during this global event. Therefore, some archaeological ten-
dencies could be outlined for the Middle-Late Holocene period.
Along this chapter, we briefly characterize the archaeological record found on
the moving dune zone and internal semifixed and fixed dunes of the coast, and the
plains. It has been our aim to demonstrate that the differences between the accumu-
lated materials through time in different environments indicate recurrent forms of
interaction between human populations and certain sectors of the landscape.
According to the topographic location of sites, variations in rock use, as well as in
the amount and diversity of discarded artifacts, can be recognized. These spatial
tendencies in the archaeological record of this study area indicate the development
of variable activities that can be outlined as in the model presented in Fig. 14.5.
As it has been illustrated, few archaeological sites associated with the tasks
developed in base camps have been detected in the dune line. This aspect of the
settlement system is of vital importance because it shows a close relationship
between the Pampean Atlantic coast and the inland. It indicates that the annual
circuit of residential movements of hunter-gatherers that produced the coastal sites
did not frequently include the littoral dunes. The fact that most contexts found on
the dune line are sites of limited activities does not support the hypothesis of popu-
lations permanently settled in the coastal environment with a subsistence based on
the intensive utilization of marine shellfish. In addition, other arguments contradict
this idea, as it is briefly shown.
Fig. 14.5 Space use in the Pampean Atlantic coast

The distribution of coastal cobbles and marine shellfish is not limited to the
coast. Those elements obtained on the coast are frequently found in low frequencies
in inland sites, with chronologies that range from the first occupations of the
Pampean region in the Late Pleistocene (ca. 12,000 RCYBP) to post-Hispanic
times (>500 cal BP). This shows that coastal products were transported by hunter-
gatherers in their inland movements and exchanged around the vast Pampean land-
scape since the earliest human occupations of the Pampas grasslands.
In the case of cobbles, the presence of coastal rocks reduced by bipolar tech-
nique in the inland sites indicates a technological continuity between both environ-
ments, as it was proposed in a large scale to the Interserrana area during the
Holocene (Politis 1984; see also Martínez 1999). It also indicates that the coast was
included within the lithic supply areas of human groups that inhabited the inland
plains in different periods. Rather than differentiating coastal and inland human
populations, these facts give evidence of the use of the different Pampean environ-
ments by the same cultural groups.
The case of mollusks needs a more detailed discussion. A synthesis of the
Pampean archaeological records with mollusks has been provided elsewhere
(Bonomo and Aguirre 2009), and it shows that more than 1,200 marine molluskan
remains (beads, artifacts, fragments, and complete shells with no human modifica-
tions) of 19 taxa have been recovered from 37 sites. A great majority of the sites
containing mollusks are located in the plains near the Atlantic coast, although in
several cases they extend over 200 km from the coastline. Among the recognized
taxa in the Pampean sites, those of the Adelomelon genera and Volutidae family are
the most frequent.
The marine shells recovered in the Pampean sites appear in very low quantities,
and shell mounds that imply an intensive human gathering of shellfish have not
been detected on the Pampean coast. This is an important difference with the
Atlantic coastal sites of Southern Brazil, Uruguay, and Patagonia where, as it is
mentioned, there were large quantities of mollusks collected with feeding purposes
forming artificial mounds. Most Pampean sites have no more than ten molluskan
remains. The sites exhibiting greatest abundance of mollusks are AS2 (Politis 1984)
and Chenque I (Berón 2004), where their shells were transformed in more than
1,100 beads and were associated with human skeletons in funerary contexts.
Most taxa also occur in the Pampean Pleistocene and Holocene marine deposits
and live today in the area within a bathymetric range of 4 mts down to more than
200 mts. Only a few taxa represented by scarce specimens live in the intertidal zone
(e.g., Olivancillaria, Mesodesma), and other shallow taxa common in the littoral at
present (Donax, Brachidontes, Mactra) are absent in the archaeological sites.
Consequently, the majority of the mollusks of the Pampean sites may have been
collected dead, as empty shells, along the contemporary beach or on the marine
fossil deposits. As it can see in Table 14.4, the habitat of most recorded species is
not in the tidal zone, but in deep waters in depths superior to 9 mts.
On the Pampean coast, there is no evidence of systematic selection of edible
species, such as surf and yellow clams or mussels, readily available from the
beaches and exploited in other South American Atlantic sectors (see above).
348 M. Bonomo
Table 14.4 Main bivalve and gastropod taxa represented in the archaeological

sites of the Pampean region
Depth (m) Chronological range
Gastropoda
Drupa sp. <20 Late Holocene
Zidona dufresnei 15–100 Late Holocene
Adelomelon beckii 10–75 –
Adelomelon brasiliana 18–70 Late Pleistocene–Late
Holocene
Adelomelon ancilla 10–350 Middle Holocene
Adelomelon sp. <10 Late Holocene
Volutidae indet. 10–350 Middle–Late Holocene
Olivancillaria sp. 4–30 –
Bivalvia
Arca bisulcata 15–40 –
Glycymeris longior 10–20 –
Mytilus sp. 4–80 –
Pecten sp. 20–130 Middle Holocene
Mesodesma sp. 0–20 –
Amiantis purpurata 15–20 Middle–Late Holocene
Amiantis sp. >15 Early–Middle Holocene
Bivalvia indet. – Late Holocene
Mollusca indet. – Early–Late Holocene
For 21 Pampean sites, the gastropods and bivalves were most likely utilized,
according to the large dimensions, hardness, color, and shape of their shells for
making ornaments (beads for necklaces or bracelets), containers, and possible tools
(drillers and retouched artifacts). Many shells were used to manufacture numerous
beads that are linked to human burial and have red pigments adhered and have been
recorded at long distances from the coast. Therefore, a symbolic value of these
elements cannot be ruled out. This idea is in accordance to expectations derived
from ethnographic information from Patagonian hunter-gatherers, where mollusks
were used in clothes linked with healing ceremonies and in ritual contexts as
funerary goods (du Nort 1599 cited in Embón 1949; Vignati 1930).
An inverse situation appears in bordering zones to the coast of the study area, as
the Uruguayan and Northern Patagonia Atlantic coast where bivalves dominate the
assemblages, and their meat consumption was established. In both sectors, sites
with great numbers of nutritional species that are readily accessible from the beach
have been recovered. The shell middens are constituted by surf clams on the
Uruguayan coast (Castiñeira et al. 2010) and by yellow clams and mussels in
Northern Patagonia (Bórmida 1964; Sanguinetti de Bórmida 1999). Along the
study area, the scarcity of typical hard shores like in Patagonia determines less
availability or absence of typical taxa with high nutritional value (Mytilus,
Aulacomya, and Patinigera). In addition, the microtidal regime of the study area
(1–2 mts) in comparison with the Patagonian coast (2.5–10 m) implies much lower
productivity in the oceanic waters of the Pampean region. This situation could have
been disadvantageous to allow the exploitation of mollusks. In summary, biological
and archaeological data indicate that marine mollusks did not have a clear relation
with the subsistence of the Pampean hunter-gatherers (see Bonomo and Aguirre
2009 for a complete discussion).
Conclusion
In conclusion, the evidence discussed implies that the human groups that occupied
the Pampean coast might not have had a strategy strongly oriented to the exploitation
of marine mollusks for feeding purposes, although a sporadic consumption cannot be
completely excluded. Besides, their shells were usually linked with nonutilitarian
activities and possibly had a symbolic value. Taking into account a supraregional
scale, this situation is a singular aspect of the Pampean coast in comparison with other
areas of the South American Atlantic coast such as Southern Brazil, Uruguay, and
some sectors of Patagonia, where shellfish had an important role in the economy.
The information developed in this chapter shows that the Pampean coast, as in
the case of Uruguayan littoral, was used by the same inland populations. The
Pampean groups included the Atlantic coast within their annual movements around
the landscape. Nevertheless, they did not frequently set up residential camps in the
dune line. They mainly placed their campsites in the plains in close proximity to
the dunes such as NM1, QS1, and Claromecó archaeological sites. These sites show
a hunter-gatherer economy focused mainly on guanaco and on the use of quartzite,
which are associated both with artifacts of coastal cobbles, and occasionally with
marine fauna. From these domestic spaces located in the inner plains near the
dunes, coastal sources of raw material were exploited. Specific tasks using bipolar
reduction of local cobbles for making tools were developed on the dune workshops.
These workshop sites do not support the idea of coastal societies adapted to the
exploitation of maritime resources. They represent a small part of the settlement
system of the Middle-Late Holocene hunter-gatherers who also occupied the
Pampean plains.
The scarce number of otariid bones recovered in the plains next to the coast does
not indicate an intense sealing from this environment. In addition, this possibly sug-
gest that these marine mammals’ processing was limited to the seacoast or to places
near the colonies of seals. The otariids predominance in Alfar distinguishes this site
from those placed on the plains, and also from those adjacent to the coast where basi-
cally terrestrial mammals were exploited. The interesting information of Alfar site,
among with stable isotopic studies, shows a more intensive consumption of marine
foods before Late Holocene. This expands the discussion of the subsistence of the
pre-Hispanic hunter-gatherers when they were settled on the Pampean coast.
Finally, although the model proposed is explanatory of the Middle and Late
Holocene occupations, it is important to take into account that the Late Pleistocene-
Early Holocene coastal sites would be subrepresented, since they could have been
350 M. Bonomo
destroyed during the Holocene marine transgressions. Even though the potential
archaeological materials deposited on the coast between 12,000 and 6,000 years
RCYBP could have disappeared, as it is mentioned, the use of coastal cobbles and
marine mollusks has been recorded in this early period sites in the mountain ranges
and plains. Therefore, this shows that the Atlantic coast was included within the
environments utilized by hunter-gatherers from the beginnings of the human occu-
pation of the Pampean region.
Acknowledgments This study was made possible by the financial support of three projects:
PIP-CONICET: 1282 (Argentina), UNLP: N503 (Universidad Nacional de La Plata, Argentina),
both directed by G. Politis, and CSIC-CONICET: 2005AR0090 (España-Argentina) directed by
G. Politis and F. Criado Boado. I am grateful to María Gutiérrez for her great help with the English
translation and to Irina Capdepont and Cristian Favier Dubois for the shell mound photographs of
La Esmeralda and Faro San Matías. However, I am the only responsible person for the opinions
expressed in this chapter.
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Chapter 15
Coastal Resources and the Early Holocene
Las Vegas Adaptation of Ecuador
Karen E. Stothert
Introduction
This essay focuses on the archaeological evidence used to interpret the preceramic
Las Vegas culture of the Santa Elena Peninsula of southwest Ecuador. The Las
Vegas people are probably the best-studied Early Holocene occupants of South
America, and their case has special importance because they developed subsistence
systems focused on both wild resources and domesticated plants in a coastal locale
in the neotropics. Their choices enabled economic, social, and ideological innova-
tions that facilitated the emergence of more complex cultures.
My colleagues and I have modeled the Las Vegas adaptation, including the
emergence of food production, using evolutionary theory, particularly Human
Behavioral Ecology and Optimal Foraging theory (Kennett and Winterhalder 2006;
Piperno and Pearsall 1998; Zeder et al. 2006). This thinking focuses on human
beings as rational decision makers in small-scale subsistence systems, the apparent
site for selection, and an appropriate locus for research on dietary choices and tech-
nological innovation. Like other Americans, the Vegas people developed more
energy efficient subsistence activities, although this process was probably halting,
episodic, and subject to both environmental and social contingencies.
It is not known precisely when the first people arrived in coastal Ecuador, or
what their origin was. While they might have been big game hunters who diffused
into northwestern South America along terrestrial routes, it is equally likely that
they were boat people who dispersed down the Pacific coast armed with skills for
extracting food from the sea and littoral habitats. New finds in North and South
America have invigorated the idea that the earliest settlers, equipped with seagoing
crafts, traveled along coastal routes (Erlandson 2002; Jones et al. 2002).
It is sure, however, that hunters and gatherers with diverse adaptations lived
along the Pacific littoral of South America in the Terminal Pleistocene (Dillehay
K.E. Stothert (*)

Department of Anthropology, The University of Texas at San Antonio, San Antonio,
Texas 78249, USA
356 K.E. Stothert
et al. 2004; Roosevelt et al. 2002), and at some locations marine resource were
exploited intensely (Keefer et al. 1998; Llagostera 1979; Richardson 1992;
Sandweiss et al. 1989, 1998, 1999). Among these were the Las Vegas people, who were
attracted by both aquatic and terrestrial resources in what was once a well-endowed
littoral ecotone in the lowland neotropics (Fig. 15.1). They adapted successfully to
the changing environments in the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene periods,
between 10,840 and 6,600 RCYBP.1
The Santa Elena Coast
Today’s Ecuador is a small country (270,000 km2) characterized by a large

number of compressed terrestrial zones with impressive variations in altitude and
rainfall from region to region (Fig. 15.2). The tropical lowlands of the coastal
Fig. 15.1 Location of several modern towns and seasonal rivers of the Province of Santa Elena,
also showing the city of Guayaquil on the mangrove estuary of the great Guayas river system. If
narrowly defined, the Santa Elena Peninsula is the area west of a line between Palmar and
Chanduy, the same region where all the known Las Vegas archaeological sites are found
All dates are cited in uncalibrated radiocarbon years BP (RCYBP). Geological periods are
1
Terminal Pleistocene (11,000–10,000 rcyBP), Early Holocene (10,000–7,000 rcyBP), and

Middle Holocene (7,000–3,000 rcyBP).
15 Coastal Resources and the Early Holocene Las Vegas Adaptation of Ecuador 357
Fig. 15.2 Northwestern South America showing the exceptional compression of distinct
environmental zones in coastal Ecuador (after Ferdon 1950; Trewartha 1966:Fig. 1.4). Af tropical
wet; Afs tropical wet with precipitation distributed seasonally; As tropical wet-and-dry; Aw tropi-
cal wet-and-dry with an emphatic dry season; Ams tropical wet with two yearly precipitation
maxima; Amw tropical wet with a strong dry season; Bs semiarid; Bw arid or desert; H undiffer-
entiated highlands. The Santa Elena Peninsula (narrowly defined) is classified today as Bw
zone include the environmentally diverse slopes of the Andes, a seasonally wet
coastal plain dominated by the great Guayas river system, and the Pacific littoral,
which today is semiarid in the south but characterized by seasonally dry and very
wet tropical forest in the north.
This environmentally complex coastal region is 700 km long and has a maximum
width of only 200 km. Adequate rainfall and good soils predominate in most of this
environmental mosaic, but the agricultural potential of the Santa Elena Peninsula is
limited by low precipitation.
358 K.E. Stothert
The Santa Elena region (now the new Province of Santa Elena) is a tropical ecotone
characterized by an important interface with the sea, resulting in a mosaic of
microenvironments and impressive biological complexity. The Ecuadorian coast
contrasts with that of neighboring Peru because the former is bathed by warm equa-
torial currents, while the cold Humboldt current dominates along the latter. Today,
the shallow coastal waters of Ecuador are rich in pelagic fish, economic crustaceans,
and mollusks, and this marine environment is only slightly less rich than that of Peru
in terms of carbon, phytoplankton, and zooplankton. The marine resources of
Ecuador, together with the range of species available in mangrove swamps,2 estua-
rine habitats, salt marshes, and other coastal wetlands, were attractive to humans
throughout the aboriginal period, not only for their abundance and diversity but also
because high biomass was accessible throughout the year. Although coastal mor-
phology and the localized contribution of nutrients from river systems cause irregu-
larity in the distribution of marine resources, the same faunal species are available
in differing proportions along the entire coast. In the past, the aquatic ecosystem of
Santa Elena involved, at least temporally, both freshwater and marine components.
The Santa Elena Peninsula is sometimes called the “abnormal appendage” of
Ecuador because of it relative aridity (Wolf 1975 [1892]:188). Today, the vegetation
includes dry tropical forest, thorn scrub, savanna formations, and areas of anthro-
pogenic desert (Lindao and Stothert 1994; Valverde et al. 1979), but throughout
history the semiarid coast of Santa Elena supported village farmers, and in fact until
the middle of the twentieth century the inhabitants of the region gardened season-
ally, raised cattle, and fished. More recently, commercial fishing has devastated
local marine resources, and the mangroves, seasonally inundated estuaries and
wetlands of the western Peninsula have disappeared due to human interventions.
All known Las Vegas archaeological sites are located in the Santa Elena district
where remains are easily identified in the denuded landscape (Fig. 15.3). It seems
likely that Early Holocene hunters and gatherers also exploited the moister valleys
north of the peninsula and the extensive lowlands of the Guayas Basin – but their
habitation sites are unknown today.
Late Pleistocene Environmental Conditions
Any discussion of the Las Vegas adaptation depends upon an understanding of

paleoenvironments and the effects of change on terrestrial and marine resources.
Only tiny fragments of chert artifacts and shells were recovered from pre-Las
Vegas archaeological deposits dating to the Terminal Pleistocene, and the contem-
poraneity of megafauna and human beings has not been supported by evidence in
coastal Ecuador (Stothert 1983). The discovery of a few stone projectile points with
no archaeological context is scant evidence that the Santa Elena Peninsula was
occupied by Paleoindian hunters.
Mangroves are extremely productive biotic zones characterized by economically useful plants,
2
and inhabited by myriad vertebrate and invertebrate creatures. The mangrove is a critical breeding
ground for hundreds of marine and wetland species.
Fig. 15.3 The western portion of the Santa Elena Peninsula showing the distribution of Las Vegas
preceramic sites, the modern drainage pattern, the modern 10-m contour (dotted line), modern
towns (hexagons), Las Vegas Site 80 (large dot near the town of Santa Elena), and 30 other Las
Vegas camp sites (small dots)
Late Pleistocene paleontological finds are, however, abundant on the Santa Elena
Peninsula: the remains recovered include mastodons, horse, camelids, giant ground
sloths, saber-toothed tigers, deer, and smaller mammals, reptiles, and birds (Edmund
1965; Hoffstetter 1952). The environment was characterized by open grasslands with
gallery vegetation along the river courses, and rainfall apparently maintained a high
water table, standing pools of water, and vegetation along the drainage courses, but it
was insufficient to support forests between the rivers (Lemon and Churcher 1961).
In general, the Late Pleistocene in tropical America was characterized by dry,
cool climates and vegetation and faunal communities that differed substantially from
those seen today (Piperno and Pearsall 1998, Chap. 2). The first human inhabitants
of the neotropics would have adapted to seasonally dry tropical forests, savannas,
and thorn scrub formations, which were very widespread in Central America and
South America (Fig. 15.4), and to fluctuating environmental conditions and changing
resource availability. These seasonally dry environments have drawn considerable
attention recently because they are the regions where we find (1) the wild ancestors
of many plants that eventually were domesticated in America and (2) archaeological
evidence that Early Holocene peoples were cultivating and modifying the genetic
makeup of these plants (Piperno 2006a; Piperno and Pearsall 1998).
360 K.E. Stothert
Fig. 15.4 Reconstructed vegetation of lowland tropical Central America (a) and South America
(b) between 20,000 and circa 10,500 RCYBP (Piperno 2006a:Fig. 7.4; Piperno and Pearsall
1998). (1) Moist forest; (2) dry forest; (3) thorn woodland, low scrub, savanna vegetation; (4) dry
and open, few trees; (5) open forest and semievergreen forest; (6) desert/cactus scrub. The Santa
Elena Peninsula may have had terrestrial vegetation classified as (3)
The Early Holocene Paleoenvironment
Because there is no paleoecological evidence from the Santa Elena Peninsula that
would permit a fine-grained environmental reconstruction, our understanding of
conditions in the Early Holocene is based on evidence from archaeological sites
and on models derived from proxy data. Evidence indicates that Amerindians in the
neotropics at the very beginning of the Holocene manipulated terrestrial environ-
ments by burning, clearing native vegetation, and tending plants (Athens and Ward
1999; Piperno and Pearsall 1998; Stahl 1996:113–114).
In Santa Elena, people developed a very broad spectrum foraging strategy
focused on plants and animals of both the terrestrial and mangrove/marine
environments. During the Early Las Vegas period, they would have been challenged
by “gradual and oscillating climatic amelioration” after which there were “greater
seasonal extremes in temperature and moisture” that resulted in substantial changes
in the communities of plants and animals: “[I]n this scenario, local richness and
evenness of any biota would be in a state of constant spatial and temporal flux as
each component acted and reacted according to its own ecological needs depending
upon changing circumstances” (Stahl 1996:110). It is not known if the ENSO (El
Niño/Southern Oscillation) phenomenon contributed to the instability of conditions
in the Early Holocene. The Las Vegas midden deposits are too compressed to allow
the documentation of climate processes and minor oscillations, but it is widely
believed that these processes created long- and short-term environmental variations
throughout the Early and Middle Holocene (Piperno and Pearsall 1998:90–107).
It is argued here that these conditions favored, on the one hand, the cultivation
of certain wild (and later domesticated) plants and, on the other, the continued
harvesting of the reliable, and dense biomass of the coastal marine and freshwater
ecosystems. The following three discussions summarize our current understanding
of past environments based on archaeological remains from the Las Vegas type site
(Stothert et al. 2003:25–33):
1. Evidence from archaeological midden indicates that the same aquatic resources
present today were also available to the Las Vegas people (Table 15.1). Apparently,
the changes in Early and Middle Holocene ocean currents and water temperatures
in the Pacific, which dramatically altered the distribution of marine faunal species
further south in Peru, did not affect the marine biotope of Santa Elena.
Worldwide changes in sea level, which determine the shape of coastlines and
the distribution and extent of littoral resources, are probably the factors that most
drastically transfigured the peninsula. Research shows that marine transgression
from the end of the Pleistocene until about 4,000 years ago was marked by
reversals and changes in tempo, so the Las Vegas people were confronted with
dynamic conditions along the littoral. Regrettably, the relationship between the
sea and the land at particular geographical locations at various dates in the past
cannot be reconstructed with surety.
Nevertheless, Fig. 15.5 represents an attempt to model the ancient Santa Elena
coastline using information about change in sea level (Bird 1993; Fairbridge
1960, 1961, 1962) and bathymetric soundings from the modern sea floor off the
peninsula (INOCAR 1980 [1989]). This modeling assumes that only sea level
was changing, ignoring for the moment both tectonic uplift and other kinds of
geomorphological change.
If mean sea level about 10,000 years ago was depressed 30 m below its
modern level, then an additional 600 km2 of land might have been exposed, and
Table 15.1 Composite list of animal species identified in both Early and Late Las Vegas faunal assemblages excavated from Site 80 a
362
Family or species Common name, Spanish Common name, English Habitat

Fish
Carcharhinidae Tiburón Sharks Off and in shore
Mustelus sp. Tollo, cazón de leche Requiem shark –
Dasyatidae Raya Stingrays In shore
Ariidae Bagre Sea catfish Estuaries & in shore
Bagre sp. Bagre Sea catfish Estuaries & in shore
Centropomus sp. Robalo Snook, robalo Off shore
Serranidae Guato, cherna Sea basses, groupers Estuaries & in shore
Batrachoides sp. Bruja Toadfish Rocks
Scombridae Atún, bonito, sierra Tunas,mackerels Off and in shore
Caranx sp. Jurel, caballa Jack, yellow caranx Estuaries & in shore
Chaetodipterus sp. Leonora, chavela Spadefish Rocks
Mugil sp. Liza Mullet Estuaries & in shore
Trachinotus sp. Pámpano Pompano Beach
Lutjanus sp. Pargo Snapper Estuaries & in shore
Diapterus sp. Mojarra, palometa Mojarra Beach
Orthopristis sp. Teniente, presidente Grunt, pigfish –
Isacia sp. – Grunt –
Micropogonias sp. Corvina, roncador Croaker In shore
Odontoscion sp. – Drum, croaker –
Scianidae Corvina, chogorro Drum, croaker Estuaries & in shore
Conodon sp. Limona Drum, Barret grunt Beach
Paralonchurus sp. Rayado, ratón Drum, croaker Beach
Sciaena sp. Corvina, roncador Drum –
Sphaeroides sp. Tamborín, tambulero Swellfish, puffer Beach
Cynoscion sp. Corvina Weakfish In shore
Amphibians
Ranidae Rana Frog Cosmopolitan
Bufonidae Sapo Toad Cosmopolitan
Anuran Rana, sapo Toads, frogs Cosmopolitan
K.E. Stothert
Reptiles
Cheloniidae Tortuga Sea turtles Sea
Emydidae Tortuga Box & water turtles –
Dicrodon sp. Lagarto Lizard Thorn-scrub
Boa sp. Boa Boa constrictor Cosmopolitan
Drymarchon sp. Culebra Indigo snake Cosmopolitan
Birds
Psittacidae Loro Parrots Cosmopolitan
Mammals
Didelphus sp. Zarigueya/zorro Opossum Cosmopolitan
Sylvilagus sp. Conejo Rabbit Cosmopolitan
Mustela sp. Chucuri Weasel Cosmopolitan
Dusicyon sp. (now Lycalopex sp.) Lobo de selva, zorro Desert fox Cosmopolitan
Mazama sp. Chivicabra, mazama Brocket deer Cosmop/mangrove
Odocoileus virginianus Venado White-tailed deer Cosmopolitan
Tayassu sp. Saíno, javelina Peccary Cosmop/thorn scrub
Cricetinae Ratas, ratón de campo Rats and mice
Sigmond sp. Rata (–) Cotton rat –
Proechimys sp. Rata (–) Spiny rat –
Other rodents Roedores Rodents –
Tamandua t. Oso mielero, tamandua Anteater Forested & shrubland habitats
Sciuriade Ardilla Squirrel Cosmopolitan
Canidae Perro, lobo Dog/wolf Cosmopolitan
Felis sp. Tigrillo (–) Cat –
Marine mammal Mamífero marino Marine mammal Sea/beach
15 Coastal Resources and the Early Holocene Las Vegas Adaptation of Ecuador
Crustaceans
Decapods Cangrejo crab Rocks & mangroves
(continued)
363
364
Mollusks
Anadara tuberculosa Concha prieta Black arc Abundant in mangrove
Anadara grandis Pata de burro Mangrove cockle Sand banks/low tide line
Astraea buschii Colón – Rocks in tidal zone
Cerithidea pulchra Churo, jeringaolorra – Mangrove/high tide line
Chione subimbricata Concha Clam Bays & swamps
Chiton plates Chiton Rocks
Fissurella sp. Conchalagua Keyhole limpet Rocks in tidal zone
Hexaplex regius Churo zambo Royal murex Tidal zone
Lyropecten subnodosus Concha de abanico Scallop Shallow and deep waters
Argopecten circularis Almeja pinganilla Speckled or calico scallop Shallow and deep waters
Malea ringens Churo Grinning tun Sand banks & rocks in tidal zone
Melongena patula Caracol Pacific crown conch

Modiolus capax Mejillón Capax horse mussel Shallow and deep waters
Natica sp b Caracol Moon snail –
Ostrea columbiensis Ostion Oyster Deep waters
Pinna rugosa (or – Pen shell (clam) Abundant in mangrove
Atrina maura) Sand banks & bays
Pinctada mazatlanica Concha de perla Pearl oyster Shallow waters

Pteria sterna Concha de perla pearl oyster Shallow waters and tidal zone
Pitar catharius Concha Clam
Protothaca ecuatoriana Concha Clam Deep sea
Tagelus dombeii Michulla Razor clam Intertidal
Thais kiosquiformes Churo Mangrove snail, dog winkle Intertidal, mangrove
Intertidal, mangrove
Trachycardium sp. Concha
Turbo saxosus Guerere soñador Cockle Shallow & deep waters
Strophocheilus sp. Caracol de monte Stone turban Rocks in tidal zone
Tree snail Trees and bushes
a
K.E. Stothert
Data from Byrd 1976, Chase 1988, Stothert 1988, Wing 1988; see also Cobo and Massey 1969, Patzelt 1978, Keen 1971
b
Identification now rejected: identified as freshwater snails, Pomacea sp
Fig. 15.5 The changing coastline of the Santa Elena Peninsula is inferred from bathymetric
readings of the modern sea floor. When sea level was depressed 30 m, the paleocoastline may have
approximated the 30 m isobath, and the continental shelf between that contour and the present
coast may have been dry land. The area between the 10 m isobath and the present shore is marked
in black and models the coastline at 7,000 RCYBP. Small Las Vegas camps are indicated by small
circles, and two large camps/cemeteries, Sites 80 and 67, are shown with their respective 10 and
20 km catchment areas
the peninsula would have had a totally different coastline from what we see
today (Stothert et al. 2003:Table 2). Of course, I am unsure that the coastline
drawn in Fig. 15.5 is anything like the ancient one, since the topography of both
the sea and the land has been continuously subject to constructive and destructive
forces, including erosion, infilling, persistent tectonic uplift, and catastrophic
geological distortion due to earthquakes.3
Changes in historical sea level would have seriously affected the distribution
of resources along the Santa Elena littoral, as would have tectonic movements
(which today continue to change the relationship between the land and the sea in
Speculative reconstructions of the geological history have suggested that the Early Holocene Rio
3
Grande formerly (date unspecified) debouched near Salinas (Fig. 15.3), possibly creating continuous
mangrove formations between its present mouth and Salinas (Ferdon 1981; Sheppard 1932, 1937;
Stothert 1988:Fig. 13.1).
366 K.E. Stothert
northwestern South America). In the earliest Holocene, the Las Vegas type site
(Site 80) might have been located as much as 13 km from the beach, and depend-
ing upon local topography, the exposed areas of continental shelf might have
been characterized by estuaries, vast wetlands, lagoons, and/or mangrove
swamps.
By 8,000 RCYBP, the oscillating sea level might have approached the 20 m
isobath, in which case Site 80 could have been about 12 km from the north shore
of the peninsula, and the people may have enjoyed some 360 km2 of land, and
perhaps estuaries and mangrove formations, which are today submerged on the
continental shelf. By 7,000 years ago, the journey from Site 80 to the beach may
have been only 5.5 km, and the extent of the mangroves might have been reduced
again, although compared to today, about 63 km2 of additional continental shelf
might have been exposed. Depending upon local topography, the exposed
areas could have been characterized by wetlands, lagoons, and mangrove swamps
crossed by rivers (like the Rio Grande) in various stages of development.
During the Early Las Vegas phase, short-term oscillations in sea level of rela-
tively great amplitude might have taxed the Las Vegas people by destroying
traditional resources, but at the same time other resources were created, present-
ing an opportunity to adopt new subsistence strategies. Later in the Holocene
(between 7,000 and 3,000 RCYBP), these fluctuations were less severe.
The most important implication of this modeling of environmental conditions
in the Early Holocene littoral of Ecuador is that as the sea level rose and fluctu-
ated, the people of Santa Elena would have witnessed the repeated creation and
destruction of mangrove swamps, as well as the alteration of river courses, water
tables, salt marshes and other wetlands, lagoons, and estuaries (Bird 1993;
Oyuela-Caycedo and Rodriguez Ramírez 1995).
A deep sea core from off the coast of Ecuador, which reflects conditions on
the continent, provides evidence that mangrove formations reached their maximum
development between 12,000 and 7,000 years ago (Heusser and Shackleton
1994:223). In fact, mangrove clams (Anadara tuberculosa) dominated the
molluscan assemblages of the Early Las Vegas Period but were less well repre-
sented in Late Las Vegas assemblages after 8,000 RCYBP (Stothert et al.
2003:Table 4). These numbers may track a long-term decline in the extent of
mangrove formations on the peninsula, or some sociocultural change.
Even without specifying precisely when and where physiographic changes
took place, it is clear that plant and animal communities living along beaches,
rocky points, and in bays, mangroves, and estuaries would have been affected by
both sea-level fluctuations and by the tectonic uplift that has characterized this
coast. In the terrestrial zone, changes in water table, in river gradients, and sedimen-
tation rates can be inferred. The long-term settlement of some sites in western
Santa Elena may reflect the formation and persistence of productive embayments,
estuaries, and mangroves during the period of dramatic marine emergence (Bird
1993:15). Cultural changes in the archaeological record of the Late Las Vegas
and Early Valdivia periods may reflect human responses to the instability of
highly productive estuarine resources, particularly mangrove swamps (for similar
argument, see Oyuela-Cacedo and Rodriguez 1995).
2. Second, I argue that the vertebrate faunal remains recovered from Las Vega sites
on the Santa Elena Peninsula support the idea that conditions on the land were
always subhumid (Table 15.1). The problem with the highly compressed archae-
ological midden (Fig. 15.6) is that we are currently unable to generate evidence
that might suggest seasonal or other short- or long-term fluctuations in local
environmental conditions.
Assemblages of terrestrial vertebrate animals that accumulated for over
3,000 years in Las Vegas midden deposits show only species that are found
today in the subhumid and arid environments of southwestern Ecuador.
Reanalysis of the Las Vegas fauna, now in progress, may reveal that wetlands
(coastal marshes and freshwater ponds) were more important for Vegas foragers
than previously thought.4
Despite a potential for radical environmental change (caused by shifts in
global climate or Pacific currents), species characteristic of moist tropical forests
are missing from the Vegas fauna, and the marine resources of the past are simi-
lar to those of the present (although mangrove formations are locally extinct).
We conclude that the Vegas people probably enjoyed somewhat moister condi-
tions, but these may have fluctuated seasonally and cyclically.
Fig. 15.6 The north wall of Excavation K-9 in Site 80 shows the highly compressed Las Vegas
midden with a low density of shells
Re-analysis of a sample of Las Vegas fauna by Markus Tellkamp has revealed a number of new
4
bird species that indicate the presence of wetlands and mangrove formations (Stothert and
Tellkamp 2006). Similarly, a new analysis of the Las Vegas molluscan assemblage reveals a signifi-
cant number of apple snails (Pomacea) throughout the midden, but particularly in Early Las Vegas
levels (Kathleen Clark, personal communication 2008): these snails are common in freshwater
368 K.E. Stothert
The remains of fish and shellfish that accumulated in the Vegas midden
indicate species that are still present today, although several types of mollusks
that are only abundant in mangrove swamps are less frequent in the later Las
Vegas assemblages.
3. Third, the occurrence of abundant grass and shrub phytoliths in the Vegas soil
is evidence that the ancient environment was seasonally dry. In Vegas times, the
western part of the peninsula probably was characterized by seasonally dry
tropical forest, perhaps mixed with thorn scrub and wooded savanna (Piperno
and Pearsall 1998: Chaps. 2 and 4, Fig. 4.1a, b). Of course, the grasses repre-
sented may have dominated only the disturbed areas immediately around the
habitation sites.
Phytoliths and starch grains from domesticated plants constitute evidence
that the Las Vegas people began to manipulate economically important spe-
cies between 9,000 and 10,000 RCYBP, and they support the inference of
seasonal rains that enabled gardening in alluvial soils, while the absence of
phytoliths from palm trees (Heliconia) and bamboo (Bambusa sp.) indicates
that these useful tropical plants were not present in the immediate environ-
ment because of inadequate rainfall and/or a prolonged dry season.
Furthermore, pollen and charcoal recovered in the midden at Site 80 do not
contradict the hypothesis that dry tropical forest and savanna characterized
the western peninsula.
Las Vegas Site 80, Midden and Material Culture
Although 32 Las Vegas sites are known on the Santa Elena Peninsula (Figs. 15.3
and 15.5), the reconstruction of this preceramic adaptation is based principally
upon evidence from the Las Vegas type site, Site 80 (CT M5 A3-80; formerly
OGSE-80; located 2º13¢S, 80º52¢W), which is characterized by deep midden that
accumulated for almost 4,000 years (Stothert 1985, 1988, 1992; Stothert et al.
2003). Today, the site is located about 3 km from the Bay of Santa Elena.
The chronological framework for interpreting Las Vegas evidence is supported
by 28 acceptable radiocarbon dates, mostly from Site 80 (Table 15.2). These inspire
confidence because they form a coherent series, agree well with independent strati-
graphic interpretations in Site 80, and the assays were made at different laboratories
using shell, charcoal, human bone, and by directly dating microfossil samples using
AMS techniques.
Three radiocarbon dates associated with sparse cultural materials in the deepest
levels of Site 80 are the only evidence of a pre-Las Vegas occupation between
10,800 and 10,000 RCYBP (Stothert 1988:618–619).
The subsequent Las Vegas occupation lasted from about 10,000 to 6,600 RCYBP.
In the deepest portion of the midden at Site 80, a discontinuous shell layer observed
in the profile at about 100 cm below datum was chosen as a stratigraphic marker: this
Table 15.2 Thirty-two radiocarbon dates and calibrated ranges from Las Vegas cultural contexts (Stothert et al. 2003:26, Table 1)
Conventional 95% Probability dendrocalibrated
radiocarbon age age range in calendar years
Site number Measured radiocarbon age BP Material assayed (RCYBP) BP (2-sigma)a
Rejected dates 80 15,850 ± 400 C 15,850 ± 400 20,160–17,750
80 12,130 ± 70 Pb 12,130 ± 70 circa cal 15,260–13,830
Pre-Las Vegas 80 10,840 ± 410 C 10,840 ± 410 circa cal 13,820–11,350
80 10,300 ± 240 C 10,300 ± 240 12,950–11,210
80 10,100 ± 130 S 10,510 ± 130 circa cal 12,310–10,850
Early Las Vegas 80 9,800 ± 100 S 10,210 ± 100 circa cal 11,620–10,640
80 9,740 ± 60 Pb 9,740 ± 60 circa cal 11,220–10,890
80 9,550 ± 120 S 9,960 ± 120 circa cal 11,310–10,300
201 9,460 ± 100 S 9,870 ± 100 circa cal 11,150–10,290
80 9,080 ± 60 Pb 9,080 ± 60 circa cal 10,370–10,170
80 8,920 ± 120 [9330 ± 120] S 9,330 ± 120 circa cal 10,540–9,560
80 8,810 ± 395 C 8,810 ± 400 circa cal 11,090–8,990
80 8,600 ± 200 S 9,010 ± 200 10,290–8,980
78 8,600 ± 100 S 9,010 ± 100 circa cal 9,930–9,080
80 8,250 ± 120 HB 8,350 ± 120 9,540–9,020
80 8,170 ± 70 S 8,580 ± 70 circa cal 9,410–8,890
38B 8,100 ± 130 S 8,510 ± 130 circa cal 9,590–8,770
15 Coastal Resources and the Early Holocene Las Vegas Adaptation of Ecuador
(continued)
369
370
Conventional 95% Probability dendrocalibrated
radiocarbon age age range in calendar years
Site number Measured radiocarbon age BP Material assayed (RCYBP) BP (2-sigma)a
Late Las Vegas 80 7,960 ± 60 Pb 7,960 ± 60 9,010–8,610
67 7,480 ± 70 S 7,890 ± 70 8,460–8,180
66 7,390 ± 60 S 7,800 ± 70 8,380–8,120
202 7,780 ± 90 S 8,190 ± 90 8,940–8,430
80 7,710 ± 240 HB 7,810 ± 240 9,290–8,160
80 7,600 ± 100 S 8,010 ± 100 8,700–8,290
80 7,440 ± 100 S 7,850 ± 100 8,500–8,110
38A 7,250 ± 150 S 7,660 ± 150 8,400–7,810
80 7,170 ± 60 Pb 7,170 ± 60 8,110–7,860
80 7,150 ± 70 S 7,560 ± 70 8,160–7,870
203 6,900 ± 80 S 7,310 ± 80 7,930–7,610
80 6,750 ± 150 HB 6,850 ± 150 7,960–7,440
80 6,600 ± 150 HB 6,700 ± 150 7,820–7,310
Post-Las Vegas 213 5,830 ± 80 S 6,240 ± 80 6,860–6,490
80 5,780 ± 60 Pb 5,780 ± 60 6,710–6,430
Dated material includes phytoliths (P), shell (S), human bone (HB), and charcoal (C). Beta Analytic provided the Beta/Pretoria calibrations (Stuiver and van
der Plicht 1998; Stuiver et al. 1998; Talma and Vogel 1993)
a
In the case of each date that has multiple ranges, caused by the highly variable correlation between radiocarbon years and calendar years, the set of ranges
has been collapsed into a single range [circa Cal xxxx–yyyy] for purposes of this discussion
b
AMS date
K.E. Stothert
has been used to divide the preceramic occupation into an Early Las Vegas phase
(10,000–8,000 RCYBP) and a Late Las Vegas phase (8,000–6,600 RCYBP).
The Las Vegas lithic tool assemblage (Stothert 1988) features flakes struck expe-
diently from technologically simple cores of locally available chert, and a series of
shapely quartzite cobbles that functioned as hammerstones, as well as diverse, mini-
mally modified cobble tools, edge-ground cobble tools, large quartzite flake tools,
an array of naturally flat stones, one apparent grinding stone with neatly shaped
edges, and a single polished stone axe deposited in a burial. A very few shaped bone
objects were recovered (1988:94–96), and the only shell artifacts were carefully
finished scoops or dishes made from portions of grinning tun shells (Malea ringens),
assorted small ornaments of mother-of-pearl, and perforated conch shells that might
have been hafted as picks or digging tools (1988:96–98). Red and yellow ocher as
well as white chalk and black wood charcoal bits are abundant in excavated midden,
and red ocher was preserved on the interiors of shell dishes, on human bones in
burials, and on the surfaces of cobble tools that might have served as pestles.
The Las Vegas material culture seems poor because most artifacts were likely
made of perishable materials available in dry tropical forests. No textiles, baskets,
or other containers manufactured from wood, skin, or bark were recovered from the
midden. Archaeologists working in drier environments in coastal Peru have docu-
mented a wide variety of perishable objects from contemporary sites, and an array
of artifacts manufactured from organic materials are known from excavations in the
waterlogged Windover necropolis in Florida, dated between 8,000 and 7,000
RCYBP (Doran 2002). By 7,000 RCYBP, other hunting and gathering inhabitants
of Florida used technically sophisticated log canoes, some of which have been
recovered from aquatic sediments (Wheeler et al. 2003).
It seems likely that cotton was domesticated in the Las Vegas period in the
region around the Gulf of Guayaquil where the wild ancestor is endemic.
Macrobotanical evidence of cotton occurs in dry coastal Peru before 7,000 RCYBP,
and in coastal Ecuador by 5,500 RCYBP in Valdivia contexts, although the domes-
ticated status of those seeds and fibers has not been verified (Damp and Pearsall
1994; Pearsall 2003:224–225; Piperno and Pearsall 1998:147–152). It seems likely
that the Vegas adaptation to the sea was facilitated by spinning cotton fiber for the
manufacture of fishing gear. Bottle gourds, an early cultivated plant at Site 80, have
been used as net floats in the Americas for thousands of years and also might
have been used by Vegas fishermen.
Settlement Strategy and Economic Activities
Vegas people may have resided at Site 80 either continuously or reoccupied it repeat-
edly from the terminal Pleistocene until about 6,600 RCYBP. Small sites, consisting
of shallow deposits of midden dated to both the Early and Late Las Vegas periods,
suggest that the preceramic people also occupied short-term campsites near the west-
ern tip of the peninsula (Figs. 15.3 and 15.5) while they exploited marine and land
372 K.E. Stothert
resources (Stothert 1988:225–236). This kind of settlement hierarchy is consistent

with a logistical strategy involving reduced mobility (perhaps a degree of sedentism
at Site 80) and temporal use of smaller camps. If the Vegas people ever created large
shell mounds, those sites are now lost on the submerged continental shelf.
Recently a second Vegas base camp, Site 67/66, has been identified 15 km east
of Site 80 (Fig. 15.5). Most of the midden accumulated at the beginning of the Late
Last Vegas phase (two radiocarbon dates fall around 7,800 RCYBP) and the burials
in the midden are very similar to those of Site 80 (see below). The seasonality of
occupation at Sites 67 and Site 80 has not been determined. Although Site 67 is
located today more than 15 km from any coast, its residents consumed fish and
mangrove clams, in addition to deer and cultivated plants.
It is not known if the people who inhabited Site 67/66 were the same as those
who lived at Site 80, or if two distinct (but related) groups existed. The marine and
mangrove resources consumed at Site 67 might have been received from neighbors
living at Site 80 or acquired independently by walking 15 km north or south from
Site 67. One wonders if similar Late Las Vegas base camps were located at 15 km
intervals all along the coastlines of southwest Ecuador, giving small groups access
to littoral resources, open habitats, patches of seasonally moist alluvia for garden-
ing, and forest for hunting and collecting. The complex mosaic of microenviron-
ments would foster such an adaptation.
The two known large Vegas base camps are characterized by deep midden,
hearths, and pits, and evidence that people performed some storage activities,
although it is not known whether these features contained wild or cultivated foods.
At Site 80, an apparent wall trench, only 2 m in diameter, is evidence of a small
circular shelter, similar to the earliest houses of the subsequent Valdivia culture.
Since a mature woman was buried under the threshold of the Vegas structure, it
might also be interpreted as a mortuary structure.
The study of 200 human skeletons recovered from Late Las Vegas graves in Site
80 has resulted in an important conclusion: Late Las Vegas people maintained very
good health (Ubelaker 1980; Ubelaker and Newson 2002). While they consumed
some cultivated plants, Vegas people did not suffer the deleterious effects, such as
tooth decay and anemia, which afflict food producers who depend on starchy foods.
Also, Site 80 is one of the largest early cemeteries in the New World, and the mortu-
ary ceremonialism reconstructed from the complex burial pattern has been inter-
preted as evidence for developing social complexity. Data are inadequate to address
the question of population growth, but it seems likely that the thriving community
of Late Las Vegas people was the result of demographic increase over the previous
2,000 years.
The burials at site 80 are focused around the top of a low hill where deep midden
had accumulated. The graves and their contents suggest a complex funerary pro-
gram involving the repeated burial and reburial of bones, a process accompanied by
a series of ritual acts, such as the application of red ocher to the bones, the offering
of symbolic objects, and probably the consumption of food and drink. Ceremonies
may have functioned to propitiate ancestors and to provide opportunities for the
creation of social networks and the construction of patterns of dependence and
leadership.
Faunal Remains from Site 80 are now being restudied, but earlier investigators
identified 25 taxa of marine fish, 4 amphibians, 5 reptiles, 1 bird, 16 mammals
(mostly terrestrial), 1 crustacean, and 15 mollusks (Table 15.1). As Vegas collectors
moved short distances through local terrestrial and aquatic environments, they
would have found diverse plant and animal communities. Capture techniques may
be modeled, but no specialized equipment has been recovered from Vegas sites.
Our study of faunal remains suggests that the Las Vegas people, living in an
ecotone with little seasonal variation in the availability of marine resources,
exploited a wide variety of species and enjoyed a constant supply of animal protein.
Based on the analysis of small samples, we speculate that in the Late Las Vegas
period people acquired half of their food from marine and estuarine environments,
while the other half came from the terrestrial zone.
A comparison of the faunal assemblages from below and above the stratigraphic
marker in Site 80 showed a subtle evolution of exploitation patterns from the Early to
the Late Las Vegas Phase (Stothert 1985:620; 1988:193–195). The earlier people
concentrated on land animals, principally deer, while the later people were slightly
more involved in fishing. This is a basis for suggesting an intensification of fishing.
The small sample of marine vertebrate remains studied more than 25 years ago
indicates that 35% of the fish taken are found commonly in waters close to shore
and in estuaries; 25% were likely captured along beaches, 10% among rocks, 15%
inshore, another 10% in both near and offshore waters, but only 5% were likely to
have been sought in deep waters. This evidence is generalized and does not distinguish
between the two Las Vegas phases. The percentages should not be taken to imply
the intensity of prey taken from each microenvironment. Clearly, Vegas people
fished mostly in near shore locations.
Returning to the molluscan sample, we see that about 22% of the species in the
mollusk list were collected in the mangrove zone (including the mangrove fringes
in the tidal zone), 43% in shallow water habitats, including within the tidal zone,
on sand banks, among rocks in the tidal zone, and in shallow waters, 9% in the bay,
on sandbanks and in swamps, but only 26% were sought in shallow and deep
waters. This molluscan assemblage indicates the variety of habitats exploited by
Vegas people, but it reflects neither the amount of food collected from each zone
nor change through time.
Based on a calculation of the Minimum Number of Individuals represented in
samples of molluscan remains from Site 80, it has been shown that in Early Las
Vegas contexts, rock-living species made up only 0.8–1.5% of the MNI of the species
counted (Stothert et al. 2003:Table 4), whereas these species made up 5.3–8.6% of
the MNI in the late phase. Mangrove clam shells, which constituted 81–87% of the
Early Las Vegas molluscan assemblages, declined to only 57–70% in the Late Las
Vegas ones. The distance to rocky points may have decreased, with marine trans-
gression, and the extent of the mangroves also may have decreased.
The reduction in mangroves may be reflected in the increased use of marine fish
in the Late Las Vegas period and the decline in the number of both mangrove clams
and bird species (Stothert and Tellkamp 2006; Tellkamp 2005). Other factors may
have encouraged the increased emphasis on fish, such as improved technologies
that made fishing more energetically efficient, a reduction in available biomass
374 K.E. Stothert
(protein) from terrestrial sources, or the desire to produce, for social purposes,
surpluses of dried, salted, or smoked fish.
Evidence also suggests that animals from both aquatic and terrestrial environ-
ments were used as symbols in the ideological system of the Late Vegas people
(Stothert 1988). Offerings of teeth of the “desert fox” (Lycalopex sp., formerly called
Dusicyon sechurae) were associated with human burials at Site 80 (Wing 1988):
these canids may have been evoked as psychopomps or messengers from the spirit
world. Also, shells of the species Anadara tuberculosa were used to construct a bed
for the burial of an infant, and large gastropods and a variety of bivalve species were
found in a pit together with human bones in the center of the Las Vegas cemetery
(Stothert 1988:150, and Fig. 6.22). Other mortuary offerings manufactured from
shell include ornaments of nacreous shells, dish-like artifacts made from the grinning
tun, Malea ringens, that served to protect the joints of the dead (Fig. 15.7), a container
Fig. 15.7 Feature 10 (Site 80) is a Late Las Vegas phase grave containing the skeleton of a
woman (age 35–45 at death) buried with her head to the north and facing east. Her right shoulder
joint is protected by a portion of worked shell (Malea ringens) in the form of a shallow dish.
A similar artifact lies nearby, and a utilized cobble tool was also associated with the body
of the same shell with ground red ocher, two carefully perforated immature valves
of Malea ringens that are functional whistles but might have been employed as
containers for snuff or for lime used in rituals involving the consumption of some
narcotic; a conch trumpet (Melongena patula), and possible digging tools fashioned
from valves of Melongena patula. Shell is a useful raw material that accumulated
great symbolic significance in later Precolumbian cultures: shell is a hard substance,
often brilliant in color, associated with spirituality, immortality, water, life, and fertility.
People’s relationship to coastal resources was not purely economic.
Plant Remains
Today, the seasonally dry tropical forest and savannas formations of southwest
Ecuador have a variety of useful and edible plants (Lindao and Stothert 1994;
Valverde et al. 1979), many of which would have been available to Vegas people,
but the poor preservation of plant macrofossils has frustrated the reconstruction of
the vegetal aspects of Las Vegas subsistence.
Wild fruits and nuts would have been harvested from trees, a variety of annual
plants would have satisfied a range of needs, and roots and tubers, which famously
store starch for the dry season, would have attracted the attention of Vegas people.
Foraging for wild resources, however, may not have been as energetically efficient
as cultivation, especially as populations increased and mobility decreased. At many
locations in the tropical forests and savannas of Central and South America, Early
Holocene peoples began to cultivate plants and (intentionally or not) to domesticate
them. Women especially would have been interested in reducing their mobility
and increasing their per capita productivity (Surovell 2000).
In their comprehensive model of the origin of cultivation in the tropics, Piperno
and Pearsall (1998, Chaps. 1, 2, and 4; see also Piperno 1989, 2006a, b) argue that
broad-spectrum collecting developed as people found more energetically efficient
adjustments to the changing resource patterns of the Late Pleistocene and early post-
Pleistocene periods. In particular, because people operated in an ecosystem poor in
starchy wild plants, they would have found it desirable to inject more calories into
their diet. Contrary to popular belief, in tropical forested biomes plant cultivation is a
more energetically efficient subsistence activity than wild-plant collecting. Evidence
from several regions, including southwest Ecuador, supports the idea that plant culti-
vation was a low-cost subsistence strategy innovated in seasonally dry tropical forest
areas. Not surprisingly, horticulture developed in Central and South America before
9,000 RCYBP, during a period when there was much more environmental instability
than was experienced by people later in the Middle Holocene (Piperno 1994:638).
The study of plant microfossils at Site 80 shows a progressive development in
the use of plants from Early to Late Vegas times (Piperno 2006a; Piperno and
Pearsall 1998; Stothert et al. 2003). Early Vegas farmers cultivated bottle gourd
(Lagenaria siceraria) as early as 9,000 RCYBP, and phytoliths from this species
continued in later archaeological levels. Bottle gourds, which are always cultivated
376 K.E. Stothert
in America, may have been grown for their seeds, or because their fruits were used
as net floats, containers, or rattles. Phytoliths from the seeds of Calathea allouia, a
plant called lerén, which is today cultivated for its starchy root in northern South
America, also appear in a 9,000 RCYBP context and become common in later
levels. Edge-ground cobbles and small grinding stones may have been used to pro-
cess this root food. Distinctive maize (Zea mays) microfossils appeared only in Late
Las Vegas samples: a primitive maize variety was present in the latest midden level
deposited at Site 80, but it was not a staple food (Piperno et al. 2001). Maize seeds,
originally from West Mexico, were widespread among preceramic peoples in
Central America and northwestern South America by 7,000 RCYBP. The cultivation
and storage of maize and other seeds crops would have been favored in Santa Elena
because of its long dry season. We suspect that Late Vegas people also cultivated
beans, cotton, peanuts, and other tropical root crops because these are present in
contemporary archaeological contexts in neighboring regions.
An analysis of the size of modern Cucurbita (squash) phytoliths has provided a
way to distinguish domesticated forms from wild squashes, and furthermore, the
size of ancient squash fruits and seeds can be estimated from archaeological
phytoliths (Piperno et al. 2000; Piperno and Stothert 2003). Phytoliths ubiquitous
in the Site 80 midden demonstrate that before 10,000 RCYBP only wild Cucurbita
was present, but by 9,080 RCYBP squashes had fruits and seeds larger than those
of any known wild species: the fruits likely were 12-cm long. These phytoliths
closely conform to those of both semidomesticated C. ecuadorensis or to C.
moschata, thought to have been domesticated in lowland, northwest South America.
This is an evidence for an independent emergence of plant food production and
domestication in lowland South America as early or earlier than anywhere in
America. The microfossil sample dated to 7,170 RCYBP contained both maize
phytoliths and an assemblage of squash phytoliths with a mean size that overlaps
that of modern C. moschata: these fruits likely measured about 16 cm. Different
species of squash with oil- and protein-rich seeds resulted from parallel domestica-
tion processes in lowland South America and Mexico in the Early Holocene.
Ongoing studies of diagnostic starch grains preserved on ancient stone tools and
human teeth have provided additional evidence of the use of root corps and maize
by Late Las Vegas people (Stothert et al. 2003).
The Las Vegas case demonstrates that as early as 9,000 RCYBP both seed plants
(including squashes and bottle gourd) and a root crop (lerén) were cultivated in
local gardens and supports the idea that food production was innovated at many
locations and over wide regions in America, and not in just a few centers.
Marine Resources and Early Agriculture
In summary, the Early Holocene people of the Santa Elena Peninsula developed
a pattern of broad-spectrum collecting, focused on both terrestrial and marine
resources that fed them well and apparently buffered the local community against
instability and fluctuations in the environment. Logistical collecting and relatively

sedentary settlement may have been favored because of the economic benefits of
exploiting both predictable terrestrial and marine/estuarine resources. During
the long Early Holocene, the Las Vegas people became progressively more
committed to feeding themselves with garden products while exploiting the rich
aquatic resources of ancient Santa Elena. Their innovative farming and fishing
strategies proved to be successful adjustments to a dynamic, complex tropical,
coastal ecosystem. Late-phase Las Vegas people who practiced both intensified
fishing and an evolved form of gardening, with more productive domesticated
species, also undertook some social changes, including the development of elabo-
rate communal burial activities. Their mixed strategy apparently gave rise to the
adaptation of the subsequent Valdivia people in the ceramic period, and it continued
to be the basis of life during the entire aboriginal period in what is now the coast
of Ecuador.
It is an aphorism that “water is life,” and ecologists know that aquatic environ-
ments are highly productive, which leads me to argue that the long-lived Vegas way
of life was enabled by resources harvested from both major ecosystems that inter-
face on the peninsula: aquatic resources (whose virtues cannot be praised too
highly) enabled sedentary life and underwrote experiments in plant cultivation,
while the development of small-scale farming meant that people could maintain
their residence by the sea and enjoy a balanced diet.
Archaeological evidence from Vegas sites testifies to the importance of
coastal resources in the successful Las Vegas cultural trajectory. It shows how a
broad-spectrum foraging way of life was transformed as people developed two
strong economic foci that enabled them to weather the fluctuations of the Early
Holocene climate and environments: neither the aquatic nor the terrestrial ecosys-
tem was likely to have been stable, but people constructed their subsistence
practices to increase the efficiency of economic activities in both the terrestrial
and aquatic environments. Over time, the natural and social environment changed,
but Vegas people maintained stability in the sense that they continued to eat well
and in their late phase undertook more costly cultural activities.
It seems likely that Vegas people had short-term optimization strategies that
motored change: they sought to maximize the return on the labor by modifying
their behavior in response to perceived conditions. Change may be viewed as an
adjustment to environmental alterations or to population growth. It is likely that
short-term changes in the climate and biogeography of the Santa Elena Peninsula
were factors that shaped the Las Vegas adaptation, and long-term demographic
growth may have been another selective pressure. In order to model change success-
fully paleoenvironmental studies of the peninsula are required, and only the discovery
of more Early Las Vegas sites will generate information about demographic change.
By Late Las Vegas times, the people of Santa Elena enjoyed very good health,
an evidence that they successfully exploited the resources of the coastal zone, and
had responded well to the loss of mangroves and to the vagaries of climate that
affected terrestrial resources (positively and negatively). Their strength lay in the
continuous creation of adjusted fishing and farming patterns.
378 K.E. Stothert
An intriguing issue in the study of the Las Vegas adaptation is modeling plant
cultivation in the Early Holocene. The Vegas case contributes an important corpus
of data to the study of the origin of horticulture in the neotropics and supports the
notion that cultivation originated as foragers, familiar with a wide variety of species
within their complex tropical ecotone, experimented with cultivation. Their early
experiments with horticulture and domestication were enabled by their access to
predictable aquatic resources whose natural fluctuations were in part independent
of the changing patterns of rainfall, which affected the plant and animal communities
of the terrestrial zone.
Las Vegas men and women could have chosen to reallocate their labor for a
variety of reasons not directly related to the loss of mangrove or climate instability.
Other incentives to change may have included the perception of increasing efficiency
of fishing as technology developed for harvesting the large available inshore biomass.
Local community growth may have stimulated social change and the desire to
increase the production of food surpluses. Plants figure widely into human
exchange activities, as do salted, dried, and smoked fish and shellfish. People invest
labor to build alliances, engage in reciprocity, and undertake regional and extrare-
gional exchange.
Late Las Vegas people, compared to their ancestors, consumed more fish,
trapped fewer small animals, hunted large animals, and cultivated improved squash,
root crops (like lerén and perhaps manioc), and eventually maize. Perhaps Late
Vegas Period men hunted deer as before, but also parties of kinsmen developed
ways of fishing together, improving the productivity of their lines and nets. Women
may have gardened in the bottom land along the Las Vegas River, an activity
viewed as more productive than foraging in the bush. If Las Vegas women were
normally responsible for collecting plants and small animals, and if they were also
the farmers, then their growing specialization in cultivation in the Late Las Vegas
phase may explain the decrease in the utilization of small animals in that period
(Bruhns and Stothert 1999).
Burial ceremonialism in the Late Las Vegas period indicates that people
invested more time and effort in community social activities. One imagines that
groups of families developed integrative mechanisms, including the mortuary ritu-
als inferred from the Vegas graves, which might have helped them to share food
on a regular or irregular basis, and perhaps to field larger work groups and defend
the resources of their territory. Ceremonial gatherings imply both the consumption
of special foods and the giving of food as gifts (Hastorf 1998). Growing food and
producing quantities of fish to share is another way that people insure themselves
against resource fluctuation. Food sharing is a strategy for minimizing risk
(Piperno and Pearsall 1998; Rossen 1991). The intensification of both fishing and
farming may have underwritten the development of ceremonial activities, alliance
building, and reciprocal exchange. Spreading one’s social net more widely is a
strategy that accounts for the strong pattern of interconnectedness observable
among ancient Amerindians.
The Late Las Vegas way of life can be seen as a preadaptation for the develop-
ment of fully agricultural, village life in coastal Ecuador. By 5,000 years ago,
peoples who cultivated a full range of useful domesticated plants were ubiquitous
in the neotropics, but many living along the littoral continued to fish, as they do
today in Santa Elena. By the end of the aboriginal period, dense populations
with complex cultures inhabited the littoral of Ecuador: their way of life combined
fishing, shellfish harvesting, seafaring and trading with agriculture, forest product
extraction, mining, and craft production. Farming and fishing together make up a
strategy well suited to regions where agriculture may be risky.
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Chapter 16
Initial Investigations into the Exploitation
of Coastal Resources in North Africa During
the Late Pleistocene at Grotte Des
Contrebandiers, Morocco
Teresa E. Steele and Esteban Álvarez-Fernández
Introduction
While there has long been an interest in Holocene coastal adaptations globally (see
other papers in this volume and Erlandson 2001), only more recently has attention
focused on marine resource exploitation during the more ancient times of the
Middle Paleolithic (MP) and Middle Stone Age (MSA) of Europe and Africa
(~250,000–50,000 years ago). The ancestors of all living humans originated in
Africa sometime at the beginning, during, or at the end of the MSA, and therefore,
investigations into the full variation of human adaptations during this time provide
critical data on how changing diets and environments are linked to modern human
origins. McBrearty and Brooks (2000) include “shellfishing” starting at 140,000
years ago (140 kya) and “fishing” at 110 kya in their list of behavioral innovations
of the MSA (their Fig. 13:530) and as part of a general increase in diet breadth
(their Table 3:492) that is indicative of fully modern human behavior. The earliest
evidence of shellfishing has since been revised to at least 164 kya (Marean et al.
2007). In addition, Parkington (2003; see also Crawford et al. 1999) has proposed
that the nutrients provided by shellfish were integral to building effective modern
human brains during the MSA and, therefore, to modern human origins. Others see
the exploitation of marine resources as typical of coastal living, and that real
indicators of changing behavior, evidenced by further increased diet breadth and
increased human population densities, come only after the end of the MSA (Klein
et al. 2004). Because studies into coastal adaptations allow us to investigate the
relationship between subsistence, technology, human population size and density,
and the environment, these studies are uniquely positioned to inform on modern
T.E. Steele (*)
One Shields Avenue, Davis, CA 95616-8522, USA
and
Department of Human Evolution, Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology,
Deutscher Platz 6, 04103 Leipzig, Germany
384 T.E. Steele and E. Álvarez-Fernández
human origins, and therefore, it is important that future studies focus on marine
resource exploitation during these ancient times.
Late Pleistocene human coastal adaptations are best documented from the shores
of South Africa. Analyses of similarly aged assemblages from elsewhere, including
North Africa, will benefit by following the research framework established for
these sites. The South African results also provide expectations that can be tested
elsewhere to assess the robustness of these patterns and to investigate the full range
of MSA and MP variation. Therefore, we begin by reviewing what has been learned
about coastal adaptations during the South African MSA and the subsequent Later
Stone Age (LSA; made by fully modern humans), and we compare these results to
what is known about Neanderthal coastal adaptations from European Mediterranean
environments during the MP. This establishes a framework for investigating the
North African record for Late Pleistocene coastal adaptations. After reviewing
the limited amount of information available for North Africa, we discuss some
preliminary results from our initial analysis of the mollusks from the Grotte des
Contrebandiers (Smuggler’s Cave), Morocco. The deposits at the site span the
Mousterian, Aterian, and Iberomaurusian. The Mousterian is thought to be equiva-
lent to the Mousterian or MP of Europe, yet this North African version was made
by early H. sapiens (anatomically modern humans), not Neanderthals (Hublin
1993; 2001). The Aterian is a unique variant of the MP that is most easily character-
ized by the presence of tanged pieces (stemmed pieces or pedunculates) and
bifacially worked foliates, which spanned from the Atlantic coast of Morocco to
just west of the Nile Valley (Camps 1974; Canton-Thompson 1946; Ferring 1975).
Until recently, the absolute antiquity of the Aterian has been uncertain, but studies
indicate that it existed in Morocco between 60 and 110 kya (Barton et al. 2009; see
also Bouzouggar et al. 2007; Mercier et al. 2007); ongoing studies are working to
refine the chronology. The Iberomaurusian is an Epipaleolithic industry (made by
fully modern humans) characterized by high frequencies of nongeometric backed
bladelets, which spanned from ~18 to 11 kya across northwestern Africa (Lubell
2001; Barton et al. 2005; Bouzouggar et al. 2008; Camps 1974; Olszewski et al. in
review). Together, this sequence provides an opportunity to explore how marine
resource use changed through time in this coastal setting.
Southern Africa
The coast of South Africa contains innumerable shell middens, the majority of
which were accumulated by LSA hunter-gatherers and pastoralists during the
Holocene. A few exceptional LSA sites date to the Terminal Pleistocene, and
researchers have identified nine coastal shell middens that were accumulated by
MSA people (for a complete listing of sites and their references, see Klein
2009:Table 6.12). The comparison of MSA to LSA samples has revealed a wealth
of information about ancient human subsistence and paleoenvironments. The oldest
evidence of regular mollusk exploitation derives from part of the MSA sequence at
16 Initial Investigations into the Exploitation of Coastal Resources in North Africa 385
Pinnacle Point and dates to approximately 164 kya (Marean et al. 2007). The
remainder of the MSA samples accumulated sometime between ~140 and ~45 kya,
although the chronology needs to be refined for many of them.
The South African MSA coastal samples derived from two distinct marine
ecoregions, whose marine and terrestrial environments are heavily influenced by
the local ocean currents (Spalding et al. 2007; Branch et al. 1981, 1994; Bustamante
and Branch 1996). First is the Namaqua ecoregion on the west coast, which is part
of the Benguela marine province. The ecology of this region is controlled by the
Benguela current’s cold water drifting northward along southern Africa’s west
coast. Offshore upwellings are produced when the earth’s rotation and southeast
winds moves the surface water offshore. The cold, upwelling water is rich in nutri-
ents, fueling a very productive marine food chain. Although species diversity is
lower than elsewhere in South Africa along these rocky shores, the biomass is sig-
nificantly higher due to the abundance of nutrients (Bustamante and Branch 1996).
Because the cold water provides little moisture to the adjacent land, the region has
long, warm, dry summers and limited terrestrial resources. The second ecoregion is
the Agulhas Bank along the south coast, which is part of the Agulhas marine prov-
ince, named after the Agulhas current that flows along the South African coast from
the northeast to the southwest, bringing warm Indian Ocean waters into this region.
In the Agulhas region, the continental shelf widens, making the current swing away
from the south coast, allowing the coastal waters to become slightly cooler and
permitting near-shore countercurrents of cooler water. This allows for an area of
mixing of Benguela taxa and of those from further northeast in the Natal ecoregion,
where species diversity is high because the Agulhas current brings Indo-Pacific
species into the area (Bustamante and Branch 1996). The land along the Agulhas
current enjoys a higher rainfall than on the west coast and, therefore, has a richer
terrestrial environment.
The largest and best-documented MSA samples come from Hoedjies Punt 3
(Parkington 2003) and Ysterfontein 1 (Avery et al. 2008) on the west coast and
Blombos Cave (Henshilwood et al. 2001), Klasies River (Voigt 1982), and Pinnacle
Point (Marean et al. 2007) on the south coast. Mussels (west: black mussels
[Choromytilus meridionalis] and south: brown mussels [Perna perna]) typically
dominate these MSA samples, and limpets provide most of the balance. On the
west coast, these are granite (Cymbula granatina), granular (Scutellastra granularis),
and Argenville’s limpets (S. argenvillei). Granite and Argenville’s limpets are also
found on the south coast, along with goat’s eye limpets (C. oculus). The opercula
from alikreukel or turban shells (Turbo sarmaticus) are also common in south coast
assemblages. These taxa overwhelmingly dominate MSA mollusk assemblages. By
contrast, LSA middens contain a higher diversity of species, and many species are
represented by higher proportions, and taxa such as dogwhelks (Burnupena and
Nucella) and white mussels (Donax serra) are occasionally dominant (Parkington
2003; Avery et al. 2008; Buchanan et al. 1978). In addition, along the west coast,
MSA assemblages contain relatively more granite and Argenville’s limpets than
granular limpets, even though the latter are more numerous and occur higher on
today’s rocky shores (Buchanan 1988; personal observation). If this were true in the
past as well, then granite limpets would have been more visible and accessible to
MSA foragers, and MSA people must have passed over granular limpets in favor of
the larger granite and Argenville’s limpets.
Beginning in the 1970s, researchers working in South Africa developed an
interest in learning more about how within species variation in mollusk size could
provide information about ancient human ecology (Klein 1979; Parkington 1976). It
is now well documented that median limpet and turbo size is significantly larger in
MSA samples than in LSA samples, and the pattern holds across a diversity of time
periods and environments (Parkington 2003; Steele and Klein 2008; 2005/06).
Limpets grow slowly and continuously and can be captured with little technology or
risk, and in many instances humans tend to take the largest mollusks first (Bigalke
1973; Branch 1975; Hockey and Bosman 1986; Lasiak 1991, 1992). Under heavy
predation, the consistent capture of the largest mollusks can drive down the median
size of the mollusk population (Branch 1975; Hockey and Bosman 1986; Hockey
et al. 1988; Mannino and Thomas 2001). Therefore, the pattern of the smaller limpet
and turban size during the LSA is interpreted to indicate that the LSA people were
more heavily harvesting these taxa than their MSA predecessors, likely because
LSA people were living at higher population densities.
The large mammal component of these sites also provides an indicator of the
utilization of coastal resources, most notably the abundant presence of Cape fur
seals (Arctocephalus pusillus) in the MSA middens of Klasies River (Klein 1976),
Blombos Cave (Henshilwood et al. 2001), and Ysterfontein 1 (Avery et al. 2008),
a species that is still common along South African coasts today. Cut marks are
found on a few of these bones, indicating that humans played a primary role in
accumulating many of them. Occasionally, ancient people exploited dolphins and
whales, presumably scavenging off of beached or washed up carcasses. Dolphin
bones have been found in a number of MSA samples, and the presence of Coronula
barnacles (such as in Diepkloof Rock Shelter, Pinnacle Point, and Ysterfontein 1),
which specifically grow on whales, indicates the use of whale flesh. In addition to
large mammals, marine birds, such as penguins (Spheniscus demersus), cormorants
(Phalacrocorax sp.), and gannets (Morus sp.), are common in coastal MSA and
LSA sites (Avery 1987, 1990). LSA sites contain more birds overall, and a higher
proportion of them are flying birds, relative to penguins (Steele and Klein 2009).
In addition to more marine birds, LSA middens also contain abundant large fish
bones and some rock lobsters (Jasus lalandii), both of which are nearly absent in
MSA middens. Overall, the marine component of MSA diets was much less diverse
than in LSA diets (Parkington 2003; Klein et al. 2004; Steele and Klein 2008).
The presence and relative abundance of marine resources has been quite useful
for reconstructing the environment surrounding an archaeological site, allowing
researchers to consider the distance to the ocean, the configuration of a nearby shore,
and ocean temperatures. Humans rarely transport large quantities of marine shellfish
more than 10 km from the collection site, and typically they accumulate shell mid-
dens much closer to the sea (for example Buchanan 1988). Therefore, the presence
of a shell midden indicates that the ocean was nearby while people were utilizing the
site. By combining knowledge of these transport decisions, changes in sea levels
during the Late Pleistocene glacial cycles, and offshore bathymetry, we can
reconstruct the distance from the site to the ocean at different sea levels and,
therefore, if the deposits likely accumulated during a glacial or interglacial. This
information has also been used to constrain the age of the deposits, such as at
Ysterfontein 1 (Avery et al. 2008) and Pinnacle Point (Marean et al. 2007). Along
the south coast of South Africa, the decline in sea levels as the world entered in to
the Last Glacial is documented by the decline of coastal species in the Klasies River
sequence as the shore moved further and further from the site, and the Last Glacial
Maximum is signaled at Nelson Bay Cave (on the south coast) by the presence of
black mussel, a cold-water preferring species characteristic of the west coast (Klein
1972). Similar patterns with other taxa have been seen within the MSA mollusks
at Klasies River (Voigt 1982) and Blombos Cave (Henshilwood et al. 2001).
Throughout the Ysterfontein1 sequence, the ratio of limpets to black mussels varies,
likely due to changes in the nature of the nearby rocky coastline and the distance
from the site to the collecting area. LSA people tended to carry mussels further from
the shore because mussels have higher flesh weight relative to shell weight. An
increase in mussel abundance may signal either a receding coastline or a change in
the geomorphogy of the local shoreline. In addition, white mussel abundance is
highest at the base of the Ysterfontein sequence, suggesting the presence or increased
exploitation of a nearby sandy beach. Even small sea-level changes could signifi-
cantly affect the relative numbers of limpets and mussels locally (Jerardino 1997).
MSA shell middens in South Africa have provided the largest samples of marine
resource exploitation during the Late Pleistocene. The work accomplished here
provides guidelines to structure future research methods and questions in other
regions of the world.
Southern Europe
Closer to the North African shores of interest, researchers have recognized since at
least the 1920s that southern European coastal caves contain evidence of shellfish
exploitation (Stiner 1994). However, at least the MP mollusk assemblages from
these caves did not receive detailed systematic and taphonomic attention until
Stiner’s (1994) work at Moscerini Cave, found in Latium on the west coast of Italy.
The base of the sequence contains abundant surf-polished or beach-worn shells and
was likely part of the local beach during the high seas of MIS 5e. In the human
accumulated samples, indicated as such by their close association with stone
artifacts, rare surf polish, and frequent burning, the most abundant mollusks in
the sequence are Mediterranean mussels (Mytilus sp.), which prefer rocky
shores, and marine clams (Callista and Glycymeris), which reside in silt or sand.
Topshells or turbins (O. turbinatus) and cockles (Cerastoderma and Acanthocardia)
are present in low but consistent numbers, while limpets (P. caerulea and P. fer-
ruginea) are quite rare. Quite interestingly, a few of the Callista chione specimens
showed evidence of having been continuously retouched unifacially along one
edge, appearing like small scraper tools (as reviewed in Stiner 1994:187–188). It is
rare to see the working of shell as a raw material in either the MP or MSA. Through
the sequence, the relative abundance of rocky-substrate versus sandy-sediment
dwelling species varies likely reflecting changes in sea level that influenced the
relative abundance of rocky versus sandy shore locally. While Moscerini shows
abundant evidence of Neanderthals consuming mollusks, Stiner (1994) reports that
overall all the density of shell in the site appeared to be low; the deposits are not a
dense shell midden like those seen in local Mesolithic sites from the Holocene. This
gives the impression that Neanderthals were foraging for these resources less inten-
sively than later people, a difference similar to that seen when comparing the MSA
and LSA assemblages. Unfortunately, too few limpets are preserved from the MP
sample to see if they are larger than the subsequent samples. However, the analyses
of P. caerulea from the Upper Paleolithic sequence of Riparo Mochi, Liguria, Italy
does show a decline in size over the last 30 kya of the Late Pleistocene, potentially
reflecting increasing exploitation of this resource (Stiner 1999; Stiner et al. 2000).
Other marine resources are notably sparse in the Moscerini assemblage, as well
as the other MP samples from Italy (Stiner 1994). Fish and birds of all kinds are
extremely rare. Monk seal (Monachus monachus) is present in very low numbers in
the MP, although one carpal from Sant’ Agostino exhibited a cut mark, an evidence
of a human role in bringing the seal into the cave. However, the other site to provide
seal bones, Moscerini, preserved them in a layer with a heavy carnivore influence
and, therefore, does not inform on MP subsistence.
The coastal caves of Gibraltar (Devil’s Tower, Gorham’s Cave and Vanguard
Cave) also provide evidence of MP people exploiting marine resources, primarily
mollusks (Mytilus and P. vulgata), but also marine mammals, such as monk seals
and dolphins (some with cut marks; Stringer et al. 2008; Barton 2000). These
authors argue that both the MP and subsequent Upper Paleolithic people had simi-
lar focused, seasonal marine resource exploitation strategies. However, the samples
sizes that they present are too small to reach such broad conclusions (Klein and
Steele 2008). Elsewhere along the Mediterranean coasts, a few additional late
Acheulean and MP samples reflecting coastal resource exploitation have been iden-
tified, such as Lazaret and Ramandils, France (Cleyet-Merle and Madelaine 1995)
and Ras el-Kelb, Lebanon (Reece 1998), but either the samples are small or they
have not been excavated or analyzed in detail. More detailed work has been con-
ducted on MP samples from Portugal, such as at Figueira Brava (Bicho and Haws
2008) and Ibn Amar Cave (Bicho 2004), and Spain, at Cueva Perneras and Cueva
de los Aviones (Montes Bernárdez 1988, 1989) and el Complejo del Humo (Vera-
Peláez et al. 2004). These samples consistently demonstrate that mussels (Mytilus),
limpets (Patella), and topshells (Osilinus) were the most commonly utilized mol-
lusks. Seals occur in very small numbers in a few sites, and fish and bird remains
are very rare in the MP; all these taxa are more abundant in the UP, including seals
and cetaceans being represented in art and their bones being formed into ornaments
(Cleyet-Merle and Madelaine 1995; Corchón and Álvarez-Fernández 2008, 2010;
Corchón et al. 2008). Much work remains for future analyses of MP coastal
adaptations.
Northern Africa
Previous Research
The most detailed analyses of mollusk exploitation in North Africa was provided
by R. Neuville (in Ruhlmann 1951) for Dar es-Soltan 1, Morocco, today about
260 m inland from and 8 m above the ocean (Fig. 16.1, Table 16.1). He provides
species lists for three main levels, the Neolithic, the Aterian, and sterile beach
deposits at the base. Ruhlmann refers to the Neolithic level as a kitchen midden
(kjoekkenmoedding; see also his Fig. 1.4), implying a higher density of mollusk
remains in this level. However, this level may in fact contain elements of both
Neolithic and Iberomaurusian. Rulhmann (1951:22) refers to it as having an
“industrie néolithique de tradition ibéro-maurusienne,” and just below it was a layer
that contained a few geometrics in a more typical Mousterian context. Ruhlmann
concludes that the Aterian mollusks were human food refuse because they are asso-
ciated with other faunal remains. Unfortunately, while the most abundant species
are indicated, the nature of the list makes it difficult to determine detailed relative
abundances or densities. The Neolithic people exploited a slightly higher diversity
of taxa (17–13 in the Aterian), but a more detailed analysis is necessary to interpret
these results. The typical taxa found elsewhere are present during both times: mus-
sels, limpets, and topshells (Table 16.2).
Numerous other caves dot the coastline between Rabat and Casablanca south of
Dar es-Soltan, but only brief species lists have been provided for a few of them.
Moving south from Dar el-Soltan 1 (where there is also Dar es-Soltan 2), marine
mollusks were originally identified from the Aterian layers from El Harhoura 2
(Debénath and Sbihi-Alaoui 1979). The cave is currently situated 300 m from
the shore and 10 m above sea level (Nespoulet et al. 2008). El Harhoura 1, situated
in the same cliff line as El Harhoura 2, was described as having only rare
shells (Debénath and Sbihi-Alaoui 1979), and Aouraghe (2004) provides a list
(Table 16.2) that includes mussels and limpets and a few additional species. El
Mnasra is located further south, 500 m from the shore, and 14 m above sea level
(Nespoulet et al. 2008). New excavations at this site are supplying a rich mollusk
Fig. 16.1 Location of the North African sites mentioned in the text. Map is modified from Klein
(2009:469)
390
Table 16.1 North African sites discussed in the text, along with their associated industries and chronologies, and the references that provide information about
their faunal remains, particularly the mollusk remains. The dates provided here reflect the most reliable ones available, but much of the work to resolve the
chronology for the Aterian and Mousterian is ongoing and more secure results should be available soon. See Fig. 16.1 for the location of the sites
Site Lithic industry Faunal descriptions
Dar es-Soltan 1 Neolithic (OSL: 7.6 ± 0.5)1 Ruhlmann (1951)
Morocco Iberomaurusian?
Aterian (OSL: 60–115 kya)1
Aterian/Mousterian (OSL: <125–115 kya)1
El Harhoura 1 (Zouhrah Cave) Neolithic Debénath and Sbihi-Alaoui (1979); Aouraghe (2004)
Morocco Aterian
El Harhoura 2 Neolithic (6–7 kya)2 Debénath and Sbihi-Alaoui (1979); Nespoulet et al.
Morocco Iberomaurusian (2008); Campmas et al. (2008)
Aterian
El Mnasra Neolithic (5,450–4,400 RCYBP)3 Nespoulet et al. (2008),
Morocco Aterian personal observation
Grotte des Contrebandiers (Smugglers’ Cave, Neolithic Roche and Texier (1976);
Témara) Iberomaurusian Bouzouggar et al. (2002);
Morocco Aterian Souville (1973); personal observation
Mousterian
Haua Fteah (Great Cave) Historic Hey (1967); Higgs (1967);
Libya Neolithic (4.7–7 kya)4 McBurney (1967); Klein
Libyco-Capsian (7–10 kya)4 and Scott (1986)
Iberomaurusian (10–15/18 kya)4
Dabban (15/18 to >40.5 kya)4
Mousterian (>40.5 kya)4
“Pre-Aurignacian”
T.E. Steele and E. Álvarez-Fernández
Site Lithic industry Faunal descriptions
Kebibat (near Rabat) Souville (1973)
Morocco
Presqu’ile du Canal, Rocher Plat (near Bérard, Aterian Roubet (1969)
west of Algiers)
Algeria
Mugharet el ‘Aliya (one of Neolithic Howe (1967); Howe and Movius (1947); Arambourg
the Caves of Hercules) Aterian (ESR: 35–60 kya)5 (1967); Briggs (1967)
Morocco
Dates from:
1
Barton et al. (2009)
2
As in Campmas et al. (2008)
3
Nespoulet et al. (2008)
4
Klein and Scott (1986)
5
Wrinn and Rink (2003)
16 Initial Investigations into the Exploitation of Coastal Resources in North Africa
391
Table 16.2 List of the species present for the sites where the data are available. Taxonomic nomenclature has changed since many of these lists were made,
392
and previous published names are provided in brackets. Current names are from the CLEMAM database
Atlantic Atlantic Atlantic Mediterranean Mediterranean Mediterranean Mediterranean
Contre Dar es-
Species Common name bandiers El Harhoura 1 Soltan 1 Kebibat Algerian coast Haua Fteah Vanguard
Bivalves
Mytilus edulis Blue mussel X X
Mytilus Mediterranean X X
galloprovincialis mussel
Perna perna Brown mussel X
[Mytilus afer]
Pecten sp. Scallop X
Cerastoderma sp. Cockle X
[Cardium sp.]
Acanthocardia Tuberculate cockle X
tuberculata
Donax sp. White/sand mussel, X
bean clam
Callista Smooth clam X
[Venus] chione
Tapes decussatus Carpet clam X
Unio sp. Freshwater mussel X
Limpets
Patella Rayed X X X X
caerulea Mediterranean
limpet
Patella ferruginea Ribbed X
Mediterranean
limpet
Patella intermedia Black-footed X X X
T.E. Steele and E. Álvarez-Fernández
[depressa] limpet
Atlantic Atlantic Atlantic Mediterranean Mediterranean Mediterranean Mediterranean
Contre Dar es-
Species Common name bandiers El Harhoura 1 Soltan 1 Kebibat Algerian coast Haua Fteah Vanguard
Patella nigra [safiana] Safian limpet X
Patella rustica Rustic limpet X
[lusitanica]
Patella ulyssiponensis China limpet X
[aspera, tarentina]
Patella vulgata Common/European X X
limpet
Siphonaria sp. False limpet X
Others
Osilinus lineatus Atlantic marine X X
[Trochocochlea snail/topshell
crassus]
Osilinus [Monodonta/ Med. marine snail/ X
Trochus] turbinatus topshell/turbin
Littorina obtusata Smooth/flat X
periwinkle
Strombus sp. Conch X
Zonaria pyrum Pear cowry X
[Cypraea pirum]
Stramonita Oyster drill/ X
[Thais/Purpura] rock shell
haemastoma
Cymbium olla [Yetus Olla/algarve volute X
papillatus]
Nassarius corniculus Horn nassa X
[Amycla corniculum]
16 Initial Investigations into the Exploitation of Coastal Resources in North Africa
Nassarius reticulatus Netted nassa/dog X

[Nassa reticulata] whelk
Balanus sp. Barnacles X
Helix sp. Garden snail X X
Stenogyra sp. Terrestrial snail X
393
Carcinus sp. Crabs X

sample that will provide valuable data in the near future (personal observation).
Finally, previous excavations at Contrebandiers, located 220 m from the sea and
14 m above sea level, yielded abundant limpets in the Aterian (Roche and Texier
1976). Bouzouggar’s (1997) subsequent work at the site added to the sample and
provided a species list of mussels, limpets, and topshells (Bouzouggar et al.
2002:241; Table 2). New work at the site is providing a large mollusk sample,
which will be analyzed in detail; preliminary results are discussed below.
Outside of this region of Morocco, the cave of Mugharet el ‘Aliya, Tangiers,
perched 18 m almost directly above the ocean (Howe 1967), has potentially provided
a great marine mollusk sequence; however, little is known about it. Briggs (1967)
mentions that marine mollusks are present, but does not provide a species list. Even
worse, Briggs submitted a sample of mollusks to a specialist but states that “nothing
of value for our purposes came of this however” (p. 187). The specialist felt that the
species present had such a wide distribution in time and space that there would not be
enough variation to correlate with the climatic phases of the Pleistocene. The shells
were not even considered to have been useful for reconstructing ancient human sub-
sistence. One interesting find did appear in the Aterian sample at Mugharet el ‘Aliya:
Mediterranean monk seal (Arambourg 1967). To the best of our knowledge, this spe-
cies has not yet been identified in any other North African Aterian or Mousterian
assemblage. Unfortunately, the Mugharet el ‘Aliya sample has been moved on a
number of occasions, and by the time of P. Wrinn’s zooarchaeological analyses, the
pieces had been lost (Wrinn 2001; personal communication).
Outside of Morocco, the largest samples of marine mollusks from the longest
and most complete cultural sequence come from Haua Fteah, Cyrenaica, Libya.
The cave is an enormous cavern currently situated 800 m from the shore and 60 m
above modern mean sea level. However, while stable isotopes in the limpets and
topshells were analyzed for environmental reconstructions by Emiliani and col-
leagues (in McBurney 1967), the samples were not investigated from a subsistence
perspective. A full species list is not provided, but McBurney (1967:59) states that
the shells were “collected from dense masses of food debris forming in many cases
virtual ‘kitchen middens’.” The high density of shells strongly indicated to
McBurney that they were the result of human food refuse. However, he does not
discuss them stratigraphically, so it is difficult to know if the shell sample is
continuous. Emiliani was able to sample throughout most of the sequence, although
shells were less abundant during the Mousterian and Dabban periods, perhaps indi-
cating that the sea had moved far from the cave during this glacial time (Klein and
Scott 1986). Emiliani and colleagues (in McBurney 1967) were able to use oxygen-
isotope ratios of winter and summer growth periods of the shells to reconstruct
winter and summer ocean temperature extremes. These reconstructions mirror
those created from pollen and other terrestrial sources. New work at this site should
provide more details on marine resource exploitation in the future.
A few additional Late Pleistocene localities with apparent mollusks as
human food refuse have been identified along the Moroccan and Algerian
coasts, such as the Kebibat (Souville 1973) and Bérard (Roubet 1969) sites and
the Benzú Rockshelter (Ramos et al. 2008; Cantillo et al. 2010), but little more
is known about their mollusk remains.
In the faunal analyses for these sites, there is little mention of the exploitation
of birds and fish (see also Steele in press). Like mollusks, these taxa have not yet
received the attention that they deserve. Species lists for birds and fish are
occasionally provided, but with only a few exceptions, a more detailed analysis
has rarely been attempted. One problem may be that many of these assemblages
are from excavations that are now many decades old, and systematic screening,
especially with fine mesh to collect small fish bones, may not have been typical.
However, in the Neolithic deposits for many of these assemblages, these taxa are
described as being present (fish at ‘Aliya: Arambourg 1967) or quite abundant
(birds at Haua Fteah: MacDonald 1997), so they were recognized and collected in
some instances. When species identifications are provided, the Mousterian and
Aterian birds come from a variety of species, and while they were potentially
consumed as food, they do not appear to reflect a consistent subsistence pattern.
In addition, the species do not provide a particular signal of ancient humans focusing
on aquatic resources.
Similar to the South African and Mediterranean samples, the initial species lists
discussed above and presented in Table 16.2 indicate that mussels and limpets are
the most common and consistent components of the North African shell middens,
and topshells also appear frequently. Unfortunately, the mollusks have not been
quantified, so it is not possible to see if species diversity is higher in more recent
time periods, as is seen when comparing the MSA to LSA. Also, similar to other
Mediterranean MP sites, birds and fish are rarely taken, and the occasional bones do
not reflect regular human subsistence strategies. At first, it is surprising that there are
not more monk seals in the assemblages, as MSA people seemed to be quite success-
ful in consuming pinnipeds. However, monk seals belong to the Family Phocidae
and fur seals to the family Otariidae, reflecting distinct evolutionary histories and
resulting behaviors. Monk seals are highly endangered today, so it is difficult to
reconstruct their past ecology and behavior, but they appear to be solitary on land,
not participating in gregarious hauling-outs and rookeries like the Cape fur seal. This
and other aspects of their behavior may have made them more difficult to capture or
given fewer scavenging opportunities compared to Cape fur seals.
Current Research
As mentioned above, work at many of these sites has recently been renewed, and
as a result we will learn much more about coastal adaptations during the Late
Pleistocene of North Africa. New excavations at Grotte des Contrebandiers
(Smuggler’s Cave) began in 2007 (El Hajraoui et al. in press; Olszewski et al. in
review). Previous work at the site by Roche from 1955 to 1957 (1969; 1976), Roche
and Texier from 1967 to 1975 (1976), and Bouzouggar in 1994 (1997) revealed a
sequence that begins with beach sand sterile material (likely from the high sea
stands of MIS 5e), moves into the Moroccan Mousterian, then Aterian, followed by
the Iberomaurusian and capped by a thick Neolithic, most of which was removed
by early excavators. The recent excavations are revealing at times a dense shell
midden that provides a new opportunity to study mollusk exploitation in detail.

Although the current work on the mollusk remains is preliminary, the current analysis
includes about 30% of the 2007 and 2008 samples, the results have been informative
(Table 16.3).
The current mollusk sample consists of both piece-plotted shells and bulk
samples sorted out of the material recovered from the screening of each bucket
(using 5-mm mesh). Identifications are made to the lowest taxonomic level possible,
and for each taxon, the MNI (minimum number of individuals; right or left hinges
for bivalves; apices for limpets and snails) and NISP (number of identified
specimens minus those used for MNI) are recorded; as these values are mutually
exclusive, they can be added together for the overall total NISP (Table 16.3). It is
common in archaeomalacological analyses to quantify an assemblage using mass.
However, much of the Contrebandiers material is covered in calcium carbonates, so
mass cannot be used. Quantifying the assemblage by NISP is problematic because
it is highly dependent on degree of fragmentation, which occurs pre- and postdepo-
sitionally, during excavation, curation, and analysis. However, MNI counts should
remain consistent and will be the basis for most analyses. Once final numbers are
Table 16.3 Preliminary summary table of taxa by broad cultural group from the current excava-
tions at Contrebandiers
Iberomaurusian Aterian Mousterian
Species MNI NISP MNI NISP MNI NISP
Mytilus 9 12 5 3 0 0
P. perna 12 6 3 1 3 13
Bivalve 34 110 29 204 9 54
P. caerulea 11 0 1 0 2 0
P. ferruginea 2 0 0 0 1 0
P. nigra 1 0 1 0 0 0
P. ulyssiponensis 6 0 1 1 0 0
P. vulgata 41 1 111 0 35 0
Patella 63 90 156 346 47 46
Haliotis 0 1 0 0 0 0
O. lineatus 1 11 7 141 1 8
S. haemastoma 0 12 0 17 0 2
Barnacles 28 0 24 0 11 0
Carcinus 2 0 0 0 0 0
Echinoidea 0 1 0 0 0 4
Other 1 0 3 8 4 1
Miscellaneous fragments 0 44 0 309 0 21
Total 211 288 341 1,030 113 1,149
Grand total 2,132
MNI values are for unique countable features of the shells: apices for limpets, snails, and drills,
and hinges for bivalves (and the larger value of rights or lefts was taken as the MNI and the smaller
added to NISP). These categories are mutually exclusive, and therefore, these two values can
be added together for the total NISP. This table represents approximately 30% of the 2007 and
2008 samples. Industry attributions assigned following El Hajraoui et al. (in press:Table 2)
calculated, species with just NISP values will be analyzed as having an MNI of 1
so that they are fully incorporated.
Limpets are the most common taxa throughout the Contrebandiers sequence.
Multiple species typical of Atlantic and Mediterranean shores have been identified
along the Moroccan coast in the past (Table 16.2). The dominant taxon in the current
Contrebandiers sample is P. vulgata, but this species was not recognized in the
previous analysis, although it was recognized at Dar es-Soltan 1 (Ruhlmann
1951:33) only a few kilometers to the North. The Mediterranean limpet species are
difficult to separate, and P. vulgata exhibits high variability in its morphology, as do
many of the other possible species; local environmental factors may influence their
shell morphology and coloration (Mauro et al. 2003). At Contrebandiers, the prob-
lem is further complicated by the carbonate deposits adhering to the shells, and
uncertain specimens were recorded simply as Patella sp. P. vulgata lives in the inter-
tidal zone of rocky shores and dominates the areas of open rock and patchy seaweed
where wave action is moderate, making them easily accessible to ancient foragers.
At least two types of mussels are apparent in the Contrebandiers assemblages,
Mytilus and Perna. Within Mytilus, there may be M. edulis, the blue mussel typical
of the Atlantic Ocean, or M. galloprovincialis, the Mediterranean mussel. However,
the genetic distinction, let alone morphological distinction, between these two taxa is
often subtle or unclear (Poppe and Goto 1991; Tebble 1966; Gosling 1992), and
therefore, we have not attempted to differentiate between the two. Mytilus can be
found on hard substrates in both the intertidal and subtidal zones and can reach
densities of up to 1,000 individuals/m2; typically intertidal specimens are smaller and
subtidal ones are larger (Poppe and Goto 1991). Perna lives on rocks below the low
tide mark (Poppe and Goto 1991) and, therefore, would have been less accessible.
Osilinus, an additional intertidal rocky shore dweller, completes the complement
of common taxa in the Contrebandiers assemblages. Stramonita is consistently
present. A few fragments of Haliotis were present in the Iberomaurusian assemblage.
Haliotis was also identified from the younger assemblage at Dar es-Soltan 1
(Ruhlmann 1951:33) but has not been recognized in any Aterian or Mousterian
assemblages. Crab pincers were also recognized in the Iberomaurusian sample, but
not in the older material, despite the robustness of these remains. Crab pincers were
also found in the younger material at Haua Fteah, but not in the Late Pleistocene
material (Klein and Scott 1986).
Limpet species diversity is higher in the Iberomaurusian sample than in the
Aterian or Mousterian at Contrebandiers. Although better preservation may allow
for easier identification of these more recent specimens, the limpets, especially the
P. vulgata, in the Iberomaurusian are significantly smaller than the same species in
the older assemblages (Steele, unpublished data). This result conforms to the
expectations formulated from analyses of the South African mollusk assemblages.
Unfortunately, there is a temporal gap between the youngest Aterian and oldest
Iberomaurusian samples, just as there is a hiatus between the youngest MSA and
oldest LSA mollusk samples. Fortunately, in a few places in North Africa there are
older Upper Paleolithic industries, such as the Dabban at Haua Fteah (McBurney
1967) and possibly at Taforalt, Morocco (Barton et al. 2007), which should help
span the chronological sequence so that we can further investigate when these
subsistence changes occurred.
To investigate why species composition may change in the Moroccan assem-
blages, future investigations will use existing offshore bathymetry data to investi-
gate how changing sea levels affected the proximity of the ocean to the caves and
the proportions of rocky to sandy shores. Fluctuating species abundances may also
reflect fluctuating biogeographic boundaries. The Atlantic coast of Morocco
belongs to the Saharan Upwelling ecoregion of the Lusitanian province, while the
Mediterranean coast belongs to the Alboran Sea ecoregion of the Mediterranean
Sea province (Spalding et al. 2007). Currently, the Lusitanian biogeographic region
contains a mix of characteristically Atlantic and Mediterranean taxa. However, due
to changing environmental conditions such as changing sea levels, water tempera-
tures, or salinity, more or less Mediterranean species may have been present along
the Atlantic shores of Morocco. Future research will investigate these potential
fluctuations in species abundances.
Summary
Research into coastal adaptations along North African shores are just beginning to
build on early descriptions, and the results are promising. Work is progressing
following the approach used in South Africa to investigate MSA subsistence and
environments during the Late Pleistocene and how these results compare to LSA
adaptations during the Holocene. South African MSA shell middens reflect human
consumption of mollusks, primarily mussels and limpets, yield a lower diversity
of mollusk species, and the mollusks present are significantly larger than their
LSA counterparts, contain a smaller proportion of flying birds than flightless
birds, and lack fish and rock lobster remains. Changing relative species abun-
dances also reflect changing sea levels, water temperatures, and proportions of
rocky to sandy shores. Initial analyses of the mollusk assemblages from the site of
Contrebandiers, Morocco, reveal similar patterns where humans primarily con-
sumed mussels and limpets; Aterian and Mousterian limpets are considerably
larger than more recent examples; birds, fish, and crabs are virtually absent from
the Late Pleistocene levels. The South African patterns have been interpreted to
reflect lower human population densities during the MSA, and the same may be
true in the Mousterian and Aterian. These analyses are just beginning, and future
work promises to reveal much about Late Pleistocene human adaptations and
environments along the North African coast, and in turn, provide useful data about
variation in MSA and Mousterian subsistence and behavior and, therefore, about
modern human origins.
Acknowledgments We thank H. Dibble, M.A. El Hajraoui, and U. Schurmans for providing us

with the opportunity to analyze the Contrebandiers mollusks from their recent excavations,
N. Bicho, J. Haws, and L.G. Davis for inviting us to participate in this volume, A. Bayed,
G. Campbell, A. Jerardino, R. Klein, and D. Olszewski for useful discussions, and J. Le Renard for
CLEMAM, the authoritative list of European marine Mollusca (http://www.somali.asso.fr/clemam/

index.clemam.html). Our research into Moroccan mollusks is supported by the University of
California, Davis, the University of Pennsylvania, and the Max-Planck-Gesellschaft.
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Wrinn, P.J. and W.J. Rink. 2003. ESR Dating of tooth enamel from Aterian levels at Mugharet el
‘Aliya (Tangier, Morocco). Journal of Archaeological Science 30: 123–133.
Chapter 17
Shellfishing and the Interpretation
of Shellfish Sizes in the Middle
and Later Stone Ages of South Africa
Judith Sealy and Mariagrazia Galimberti
Introduction
South Africa has a long history of coastal occupation, with numerous sites dating
from the Holocene and a sizable number from the Late Pleistocene. Research in
progress is now revealing evidence of coastal occupation, and the accumulation of
shell middens, as far back as the Middle Pleistocene (Jacobs et al. 2006; Marean
et al. 2007). These sites preserve some of the earliest evidence, anywhere in the
world, of the behaviour of modern humans, making South Africa an especially
fruitful area in which to explore questions about the use of coastal resources and
how these changed both through time and across space.
A number of Middle Stone Age sites (c. 250–30 kya) known in South Africa lie
along the present-day coastline (Fig. 17.1). Many are in caves, where preservation
tends to be better than in the open. Both Middle and Later Stone Age (<30 kya) sites
tend to be located along rocky, rather than sandy shores, since rocky substrates support
more abundant populations of shellfish. Discarded mollusc shells form the dominant
component of most coastal sites and contain a great deal of information about past
peoples’ behaviour and subsistence practices. As with many other biological residues,
however, it can be difficult to tease apart the possible causes of variation in shellfish
assemblages. Explanations developed by archaeologists have tended to favour human
behaviour as the cause of change, invoking shifts in choice of mollusc species collected
and changes in intensity of collection as the likely agents. We argue below that we should
pay more attention to possible environmental influences on the patterns documented.
Middle Stone Age shell middens surviving on land today date from relatively
warm intervals, when the sea level was close to its present position. There must be
J. Sealy (*)
Private Bag X3, Rondebosch 7701, South Africa
406 J. Sealy and M. Galimberti
Fig. 17.1 Map of South Africa showing some important Middle and Later Stone Age sites
mentioned in the text. Bekbaai and Noordwesbaai are immediately south of Cape St Martin, and
north of Sea Harvest
many more middens submerged on the continental shelf, particularly along the
shallow sloping south coast of South Africa, where up to 100 km of coastal plain
were exposed at the Last Glacial Maximum. The species of shells in MSA middens
are the same as those occurring in these areas today. Sites along the south coast, on
the edge of the Indian Ocean, contain mostly species that thrive in warm water,
while those along the west coast, on the fringes of the Atlantic, are dominated by
cold-water-loving species. These patterns have not been entirely consistent over
time: around 10 kya, towards the end of the post-glacial sea-level rise, the cold-
water-loving black mussel Choromytilus meridionalis lived along the south coast,
where it was collected for food by the inhabitants of both Nelson Bay Cave and
Matjes River Rock Shelter. This species today is found mostly along the west coast,
in waters no warmer than 18°C (Clarke and Griffiths 1990). After about 9.5 kya
Choromytilus disappeared from both sites, replaced by the warm-water brown
mussel Perna perna, still found in the area today (Klein 1972; Döckel 1998). This shift
indicates cooler water temperatures along the south coast in the terminal Pleistocene/
early Holocene. Choromytilus also occurs in small numbers in the MSA levels of
Klasies River and Blombos Cave (Thackeray 1988; Henshilwood et al. 2001).
Shellfish Sizes in the Middle and Later

Stone Ages: Food Species
Archaeologists have devoted a good deal of effort to documenting the species of shell-
fish and measuring the sizes of shells recovered from shell middens. Richard Klein and
co-workers have published a number of diagrams such as that shown in Fig. 17.2,
17 Shellfishing and the Interpretation of Shellfish Sizes 407
Fig. 17.2 Maximum shell lengths (in mm) of granite limpets from Middle, compared with Later
Stone Age sites along the west coast of South Africa (after Klein 2008). Numbers in parentheses
indicate sample sizes. The youngest LSA samples are at the top, the oldest at the bottom. The
relative ages of the MSA samples are not known. The vertical line near the centre of each box plot
shows the median, the shaded rectangle indicates the 95% confidence limits of the median, the
open rectangle encloses the middle half of the data, and the “whiskers” show the range of more
or less continuous data. Stars and open circles indicate outliers. When the 95% confidence limits
for two medians do not overlap, the medians differ from one another at or below the 0.05%
significance level
which clearly demonstrates significant differences between the sizes of granite limpets
(Cymbula granatina) from Middle and Later Stone Age sites along the west coast of
South Africa. Middle Stone Age shells were substantially larger, and the pattern is
about as statistically robust as archaeological data gets. Modern (late twentieth
century) specimens, from two areas thought not to be significantly affected by people,
are also large. The size contrast between Middle and Later Stone Age limpets is also
seen in other species: Scutellastra granularis and S. argenvillei, for which we have
data predominantly from the west coast, and Cymbula oculus, from the south coast
(Volman 1978; Klein 1998; 2008; Henshilwood et al. 2001; Halkett et al. 2003;
Parkington 2003; 2008; Klein et al. 2004; Steele and Klein 2006; Avery et al. 2008).
What about shellfish other than limpets? Along the south coast, one of the most
common large gastropods – and an important food species even today – is the
turban shell (or alikreukel, Turbo sarmaticus), sometimes also called the giant peri-
winkle. These occur in the lower intertidal and sub-tidal zones of the shoreline, up
to a depth of about 8 m. Large individuals measure ~130 mm across (Kilburn and
Rippey 1982). Whole Turbo are rarely found in archaeological sites, but the lengths
of the opercula are a good proxy (McLachlan and Lombard 1981; Yssel 1989).
Measurements of opercula from Middle and Later Stone Age sites show a signifi-
cant decrease in size from MSA to LSA (Fig. 17.3), in the same way as the limpets
described above (Voigt 1982; Thackeray 1988; Klein 2008; Henshilwood et al.
2001; Steele and Klein 2006).
The one species for which we have measurements but that does not show this
pattern is the black mussel Choromytilus meridionalis. Mussel shells usually break
up in archaeological sites, but the maximum width of the prismatic band is propor-
tional to the length of the valve (Buchanan 1985), and this band can be measured
on fragmentary specimens. The figures for MSA mussels are within the range of
LSA assemblages (which themselves vary significantly) (Halkett et al. 2003;
Parkington 2003; Avery et al. 2008). Some of the variation in Holocene assem-
blages has been attributed to changes in water turbidity and sea surface tempera-
ture, as well as shifts in collecting practice (Jerardino 1997).
As mentioned above, the most widely published interpretation of the size
decrease in LSA, compared with MSA molluscs, is that it resulted from more inten-
sive shellfish collection by larger LSA human populations. As far as we know,
hunter-gatherers who lived along the South African coastline collected shellfish,
fished and obtained other marine foods from the shore – we have no indication that
they used boats, dived or ventured farther into the ocean than the lower intertidal
zone, exposed at spring low tides. Limpets, living as they do in the intertidal, are
easily accessible to shore-based collectors. Researchers have argued that people
would have removed the largest animals first, to the extent that overall size distribu-
tions became skewed towards smaller (i.e. younger) animals in later time periods
(Halkett et al. 2003; Parkington 2003; 2008; Klein et al. 2004; Steele and Klein
2006; Avery et al. 2008; Klein 2008). The underlying assumption is that shellfish
growth rates have remained constant over many tens of thousands of years.
Choromytilus meridionalis also occurs on intertidal rocks, but its range extends
lower on the shoreline into the sub-tidal zone. Deeper-water colonies would have
Fig. 17.3 Lengths (maximum diameters) of Turbo sarmaticus opercula (in mm) from Middle and
Later Stone Age sites (after Klein 2008). See caption to Fig. 17.2 for explanation of box-plot format
provided a stable reservoir from which intertidal populations could be replenished.

In addition, Choromytilus occurs along the west coast in enormous, very dense
mussel beds. Parkington (2003), Klein et al. (2004) and Avery et al. (2008) suggest
that we do not see a decrease in the sizes of black mussels in the LSA compared
with the MSA because mussel populations would have been less susceptible than
limpets to over-exploitation.
If heavy harvesting of shellfish directly impacted size distributions, one might
expect to see fluctuations also within the Middle and Later Stone Ages, if changes in
the numbers of people living along the coast or the importance of shellfish in their
diets led to shorter-term variations in intensity of collection. The most detailed evi-
dence comes from the second half of the Holocene, and especially from the west
coast of South Africa, around Elands Bay. We have a wealth of information from the
long-term research programme in this area led by John Parkington, with contributions
from many students and colleagues. In a recent article, Parkington (2008) argues
persuasively that spatially patterned variations in the sizes of limpets at the site of
Dunefield Midden reflect human impact on shellfish populations over the duration
of occupation. He suggests the same mechanism for shifts in limpet sizes and
frequencies through the terminal Pleistocene and Holocene sequence at Elands Bay
Cave.
Antonieta Jerardino et al. (2008) have recently synthesised several decades’
worth of research into archaeological and modern shellfish from dozens of sites in
the Elands Bay area. Some of their findings are shown in Figs. 17.4 and 17.5.
Figure 17.4 shows that shellfish were a particularly important item of diet between
3 and 2 kya (uncalibrated). The largest number of shell middens dates to this
millennium, and these sites are very much bigger (the volumes of deposit are
greater) than in earlier or later millennia. This must surely mean that there was
significant pressure on shellfish populations. The importance of marine foods –
though not, it must be emphasised, specifically shellfish – is also reflected in the
d13C values of bone collagen from human skeletons dating to this same time period.
Fig. 17.4 Numbers of sites and volumes of deposit from the Elands Bay area compared with d13C
values of West Coast human skeletons from the past 4,000 years (after Jerardino et al. 2008)
Fig. 17.5 Variations in size of Cymbula granatina (granite limpet, n = 53–409), Choromytilus
meridionalis (black mussel, n = 770–2,360) and Jasus lalandii (rock lobster, n = 42–237) at
Steenbokfontein Cave during the late Holocene (after Jerardino et al. 2008). Lines linking samples
of different ages show differences that are statistically significant at p < 0.05
Skeletons from 3 to 2 kya tend to have relatively positive d13C values, which in this
environment derive from seafood consumption (Sealy and van der Merwe 1988).
Given this background, Jerardino et al. go on to examine shellfish sizes between
4 and 2 kya, compared with earlier and later periods. Figure 17.5 shows measure-
ments of Cymbula granatina (granite limpet), Choromytilus meridionalis (black
mussel) and Jasus lalandii (rock lobster) excavated from the cave of Steenbokfontein,
a few kilometres north of Elands Bay (Jerardino Wiesenborn 1996). Both species
of shellfish increase in size between 4 and 3.5 kya and then become smaller
between 3.5 and 2.5 kya. At present, there is insufficient data to identify a clear
pattern after 2.5 kya. Crayfish, too, decrease in size between 3.5 and 2.5 kya. The
authors examine various environmental variables: sea surface temperature (inversely
linked to productivity, since upwelling of deep, cold, nutrient-rich water is a major
determinant of productivity in this region), turbidity, etc. but conclude that the
decline in shellfish sizes is best attributed to intensive harvesting; of any time
during the past few thousand years, this is when one would most expect to see this
phenomenon.
The decrease in the size of the crayfish, however, requires a different explana-
tion. Jasus lalandii are abundant along the west coast, and Elands Bay and environs
are a centre of the crayfishing industry today. Very substantial populations of these
creatures live in the kelp beds immediately offshore, with some individuals occur-
ring closer inshore, including in deeper rock pools. In earlier times, and even today
along parts of the coastline where human access is restricted, crayfish can be caught
from rock pools without the need to dive. This type of harvesting would, however,
draw on only a tiny fraction of the overall population, and animals that were taken
would be replaced by others from the very large pool beyond the range of pre-
colonial foragers. Jerardino et al. (2008) point out that it is, therefore, very unlikely
that hunter-gatherers “farmed down” the crayfish population.
What, then, might account for the reduction in crayfish size? The authors conclude
that there must have been changes in the availability of food or other environmental
factors that influenced growth, and thus the sizes of the animals. Whatever the
cause might have been, surely we need to explore the likely effect on other marine
organisms, including Choromytilus meridionalis and Cymbula granatina. It would
be surprising if these species underwent a parallel reduction in size at precisely the
same time for entirely different reasons.
Shellfish Sizes in the Middle and Later Stone

Ages: Non-Food Species
We turn now to a species of shellfish that was collected not for food, but as an
ornament. Nassarius kraussianus (tick shells) are small gastropods, typically 7.5–10 mm
long, that live in sheltered environments such as lagoons and estuaries (Kilburn and
Rippey 1982). They are too small to have been worth collecting for food, but they
are well known from Later Stone Age sites because they were perforated and strung
as shell beads (e.g. Goodwin 1938; Schweitzer 1979; Schweitzer and Wilson 1982;
Fig. 17.6 Maximum shell lengths (in mm) of Nassarius kraussianus beads from the Middle and
Later Stone Age levels of Blombos and Die Kelders (after d’Errico et al. 2005)
Hall and Binneman 1987; Inskeep 1987). Recently, Nassarius shell beads have
been described from Middle Stone Age levels c. 75 kya at Blombos Cave (d’Errico
et al. 2005) and also from Middle Palaeolithic contexts in North Africa and Israel
(Vanhaeren et al. 2006; Bouzouggar et al. 2007). Once again, the South African
Middle Stone Age specimens are significantly larger than examples from the Later
Stone Age levels at the same site (Mann-Whitney p < 0.0001, d’Errico et al. 2005),
and at Die Kelders, approximately 140 km west of Blombos (Fig. 17.6). In absolute
terms, the difference is small; from Fig. 17.6, the median value of the LSA samples
can be estimated at about seven mm, approximately two mm smaller than the
median value for the MSA sample. As a proportion of total length, however, this
is substantial. It is extremely improbable that size reduction in Nassarius from
the Middle to the Later Stone Age can be attributed to increased collection pres-
sure from hunter-gatherers; there simply are not enough shell beads in LSA sites
to indicate farming down. In this case, we clearly need to look elsewhere for an
explanation.
Environmental Influences on Shellfish Growth
Growth rates of marine molluscs depend on many factors, including temperature,

food supply, water turbidity, salinity, topography and population density (McQuaid
1981; Ekaratne and Crisp 1984; McQuaid and Branch 1984; Jerardino 1997;
Mannino and Thomas 2002).
The ages of the MSA shellfish assemblages shown in Figs. 17.2 and 17.3 are
relevant to this discussion. MSA shell middens on the present coastline are likely to
have accumulated at times when the sea level was within a few kilometres of its
current position. We lack precise dates for the archaeological assemblages from
Boegoeberg 2, Hoedjiespunt 3 and Sea Harvest. Boegoeberg 2 is beyond the range of
radiocarbon dating, and the fauna reflect interglacial conditions, so the site may have
formed during one of the warmer intervals of the last interglacial (MIS 5e, 5b or 5a)
(Klein et al. 1999). Hoedjiespunt 3 is probably the same age as Hoedjiespunt 1, tenta-
tively dated to c. 120–110 kya (Parkington 2003). Sea Harvest is likely to date some-
time between 128 and 74 kya (Grine and Klein 1993). The dating of the Ysterfontein
site is still in progress, but the evidence thus far indicates a probable age of between
57 and 46 kya, although ca. 115–71 kya is also possible (Klein et al. 2004).
At Blombos Cave, the three MSA levels M3, M2 and M1 date from 98.9 ± 4.5 to
72.7 ± 3.1 kya (Jacobs et al. 2006). At Klasies River, the base of the earliest occupa-
tion (the MSA I) dates to c. 120 kya (Deacon and Geleijnse 1988) and the Howiesons
Poort (HP) levels to 65–60 kya (Jacobs et al. 2008). The MSA III and IV are not well
dated, but the whole Klasies River sequence accumulated between about 120 and
perhaps 40–30 kya. Overall, of the MSA shellfish assemblages shown in Figs. 17.2
and 17.3, all those for which we have reasonably precise dates accumulated during
times when temperatures were lower than those of the Holocene. Thackeray, in his
analysis of shellfish from the MSA at Klasies River, noted that the “presence of
Choromytilus [meridionalis or black mussel] can be used as a basis for suggesting
that temperatures during most of the Middle Stone Age represented at Klasies River
were cooler than modern conditions off the southern Cape, where Choromytilus does
not appear at present” (1988:31). The species abundance data is, therefore, consis-
tent with temperatures during the accumulation of MSA shell middens being slightly
colder than today, but only slightly (because MSA shellfish assemblages are similar
to Holocene ones on both the Atlantic and Indian Ocean shorelines, reflecting colder
and warmer-loving species, respectively).
The palaeo-oceanographic literature documents substantial variations in the pro-
ductivity of the southern oceans over the last glacial/interglacial cycle. Sachs and
Anderson (2005) present detailed information from the southern ocean for the period
ca. 70–10 kya, documenting marked increases in oceanic productivity coinciding
with Antarctic temperature maxima at 58.8, 53, 46 and 38.5 kya. Primary productivity
around the South African coastline can certainly be expected to have changed as sea
levels and ocean currents shifted. Differences in primary productivity affect the food
supply and, hence, are likely to influence size distributions of shellfish populations.
Among molluscs in general, small size is typically linked with slow growth (Johnson
1999), and growth is controlled, in part, by food availability (Broom and Mason
1978; Thompson and Nichols 1988). Primary productivity varies around the SA
coastline today (Bustamente et al. 1995), and Bosman and Hockey (1988a, b) have
shown that increased algal productivity in nutrient-rich situations increases the size
of Patella (now Scutellastra) granularis; this is likely to apply also to other shell-
fish. Quality of diet has been shown to affect the growth rate of Turbo sarmaticus
(Foster et al. 1999). Turbo living in the intertidal consumed a range of macroalgae,
but the most important were Corallina spp., Gelidium pristoides and Ulva rigida. In
a series of experiments with captive animals, those fed mainly on Corallina grew
significantly less well than those fed on the other species. Animals that ate Ulva
only, or a mixture of Ulva and Gelidium, grew better than those supplied with
Gelidium alone. Similarly detailed studies have not, unfortunately, been done on
other species of molluscs collected by hunter-gatherers, so we cannot yet predict the
likely effects of changes in environmental conditions on the different types of shells

found in middens. Food availability is only one variable. Temperature is also impor-
tant: molluscan species have preferred temperature ranges, and many grow during
only part of the year when conditions are to their liking (Epstein and Lowenstam
1953; Krantz et al. 1987; Goodwin et al. 2001; Chauvaud et al. 2005; Mannino et al.
2008). Higher temperatures also increase molluscan metabolic rates, so more energy
is required for metabolic functioning, possibly at the expense of growth (Broom and
Mason 1978). The inter-relationship of all these factors is clearly complex, making
them difficult to tease apart (Underwood 1984).
Discussion and Conclusion
The evidence summarised above seems to us sufficiently compelling to warrant

re-examination of the assumption that shellfish growth rates have remained
constant from the MSA to the LSA. MSA shellfish assemblages available for study
today must have accumulated at times when sea level was close to its present posi-
tion, but most appear to post-date the Last Interglacial, and ocean temperature, food
supply and other factors critical for molluscan growth were not necessarily the
same as in the Holocene. If MSA shellfish grew faster, then the larger sizes of MSA
specimens need not mean that there was less predation pressure by smaller
MSA human populations.
The implications of this are far-reaching. If MSA people were not yet cognitively
modern and were less efficient at extracting nutrients from their environment, popu-
lation sizes would have remained relatively small, as argued by Klein (2008, and
references therein). This would certainly account for less intensive harvesting of
shellfish and other resources. There is, however, a growing body of evidence that
MSA people were more advanced (e.g. Deacon 1992; McBrearty and Brooks 2000;
Henshilwood et al. 2002; Henshilwood and Marean 2003; d’Errico et al. 2005;
Brown et al. 2009). Whatever the case, coastal environments are very productive,
and it is difficult to understand why MSA populations living along the coast should
have been nutrient-limited. Why did people not simply collect more shellfish? We
suspect that the reasons behind the observed variations in shellfish size over the past
100,000 years are more complex and that environmental factors are likely to be
involved. A clearer understanding of this would enable us to explore more detailed
questions about shellfish exploitation, human population density and possible links
to processes of human dispersal and colonisation of new areas (e.g. Mannino and
Thomas 2002).
The patterns of change in shellfish size that we seek to explain are, as yet, out-
lined with only very broad brush-strokes. To sum up, we know that there is a
significant decrease from the Middle to the Later Stone Age in the sizes of several
species of limpets, of Turbo sarmaticus and Nassarius kraussianus. There appears
not to be a size decrease in Choromytilus meridionalis. Over-harvesting as a
possible explanation is most plausible for limpets. Today, large (old) limpets form
only a very small proportion of the population (Branch 1974a, b; Rebelo 1982 in
Parkington 2008), and since limpets are confined to the intertidal zones, entire
populations are vulnerable to collection at spring low tides. Human impact is less
likely to have caused size reduction in Turbo sarmaticus, given that a significant
proportion of these animals live in the sub-tidal zone, where they would have been
difficult for pre-colonial people to access. Over-exploitation is an unlikely explanation
in the case of Nassarius kraussianus, which is not a food species. We should,
therefore, also look to environmental factors; if these did indeed play a role, then
they are very likely to have affected limpets too. This does not mean that we should
abandon consideration of possible over-harvesting – there may well be multiple
reasons for the patterns we see. It does mean that we need to explore additional
approaches. As already suggested, comparison of long-term size trends in different
species of shellfish with varied habitat preferences, feeding requirements, etc.
might help disaggregate different contributing factors. Direct investigation of
growth patterns of Middle and Later Stone Age shells through the study of growth
increments, seasonal variations in oxygen isotope ratios and possibly trace element
profiles should enable us to investigate the ages, as well as the sizes of shells, and
thus answer these questions more directly.
Acknowledgements We are grateful to the many colleagues who have discussed these questions
with us over a number of years. We thank Tim Maggs for the shell drawings in Figs. 17.2 and 17.3,
and Sally Adam for draughting work.
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Chapter 18
Coastal South Africa and the Coevolution
of the Modern Human Lineage
and the Coastal Adaptation
Curtis W. Marean
The fossil record indicates that Homo sapiens appears sometime around 195–160 ka
(White et al. 2003; Clark et al. 2003; McDougall et al. 2005; Smith et al. 2007).
Evolutionary genetics (Ingman et al. 2000; Tishkoff et al. 2007; Gonder et al. 2007;
Fagundes et al. 2007; Behar et al. 2008) point to the time between 200 and 100 ka
as the origin point for the modern human lineage. Modern humans have relatively
very low genetic diversity that is best explained by one or more population bottle-
necks late in the evolution of the lineage, with estimates for the first bottleneck
ranging from 144 ka (103,535–185,642 ka 95%CI) (Fagundes et al. 2007) to
194.3 ± 32.5 ka (Gonder et al. 2007) to 203 ± 12.6 ka (Behar et al. 2008). Fagundes
et al. (2007) estimate the effective population of that bottleneck at ~600 (76–1,620
95%CI). A computer simulation by Rogers reported in (Ambrose 1998) suggests
that this bottlenecked population was a single contiguous breeding group in one
region, since if this population sampled a broad range of populations across Africa
the original genetic variation would have been preserved. This bottleneck seems to
have occurred during the glacial MIS6 (~195–125 ka), one of the longest coldest
stages of the Quaternary (Petit et al. 1999), during which time Africa would have
been primarily dry with relatively few isolated refugia. Paleoanthropologists now
have a gripping question to address – where did this progenitor population arise,
how, and why there?
A related question addresses the timing and circumstances of the origins of
cognitive complexity (McBrearty and Brooks 2000; Henshilwood and Marean
2003; Wadley 2003). Paleoanthropologists use various proxies in the archaeologi-
cal record to try to identify its presence and scope, including artifactual markers of
symbolic thought (Henshilwood et al. 2004), and the development of complex
technologies (McBrearty and Brooks 2000) that signal the unique ability of humans
C.W. Marean (*)
Institute of Human Origins, School of Human Evolution and Social Change,
Arizona State University, 872402 Tempe, AZ 85287-2402, USA
422 C.W. Marean
to successively build on prior knowledge over generations (Tomasello 1994, 1999).

This “ratchet effect” refers to incremental adjustments to technological procedures
already in place. Along with this, modern humans excel at novel “outside-the-box”
connections of seemingly unrelated phenomena (Pfenninger 2001; Andreasen
2006). These can result in sharp technological advances with high fitness benefits,
and these new creations provide the input to the ratchet effect.
The South African archaeological record provides the richest and oldest evi-
dence for the material cultural complexity that we anticipate will reflect this
advanced cognition. It appears during the Middle Stone Age (MSA, dating between
280 and ~35 ka), the technological stage that spans the origins of modern humans.
This material cultural complexity has been repeatedly pointed to as a potential
indicator of behavioral modernity (McBrearty and Brooks 2000; Henshilwood and
Marean 2003; Marean and Assefa 2005). Here, and particularly on the coast, are
found early examples of material cultural complexity that predate by some 20,000
years the “Human Revolution” of 50–40 ka. Some researchers once considered this
50–40 ka break in material culture to be worldwide (Mellars 1973; Klein 1998,
2000), but now it is widely accepted that this material cultural complexity occurs
much earlier than 50 ka in Africa (McBrearty and Brooks 2000; Henshilwood and
Marean 2003; Marean and Assefa 2005). The evidence includes the production of
bone tools such as points (Henshilwood et al. 2001a; d’Errico and Henshilwood
2007; Backwell et al. 2008), beads (Henshilwood et al. 2004; d’Errico et al. 2005),
large quantities of worked and unworked pigments (Watts 1999, 2002), decorated
ochre (Henshilwood et al. 2002; Mackay and Welz 2008), and most recently lithic
heat treatment (Brown et al. 2009) in MSA sites. At this stage in research, this burst
of complexity appears to occur between 120 and 70 ka, but it is important to note
that there is currently only a handful of sites in all of Africa that are directly dated
to the prior marine isotope stage 6 (MIS6, ~195–125 ka). Pinnacle Point 13B
(PP13B) is one of these. Interestingly, PP13B also provides our earliest evidence
(~164 ka) for marine shellfish exploitation, as well as the best dated earliest evi-
dence for the use and modification of pigments (Marean et al. 2007). I think that
this lack of evidence for a period of material cultural complexity prior to 120 ka is
largely an illusion born of a lack of sites.
Why has the South African coast produced such a rich record of behavioral
complexity so early? I will argue below that this record reflects a unique confluence
of context and evolutionary events, with marine shellfish collection being a key
ingredient. I hypothesize that the progenitor population, the small bottlenecked
group detected in the genetic analyses, was on the south coast of South Africa
exploiting the rich shellfish beds and geophyte food resources. Together, these food
resources presented an ideal nutrition package during the long cold glacial of MIS6.
But this also raises an important question – why did hominins wait so long to
expand their diet to the sea? I provide a hypothesis to explain this late dietary
expansion to sea foods and suggest that this is further evidence that these hominins
on the shore of South Africa had evolved a special cognitive system, one that
already had in place the working memory and executive functions required to map
a mobility system to lunar patterns and tidal rhythms. Modern humans are a terrestrial
18 Coastal South Africa and the Coevolution of the Modern Human Lineage 423
mammal that, in some cases, has a persistent use of marine resources that develops
into a coastal adaptation characterized by technological and cultural peculiarities.
This coupling of a terrestrial pedigree to focused utilization of sea resources
reinforced through embedded cultural knowledge is another uniquely human adap-
tation among the primates and thus warrants careful consideration as to its origins
and impact.
Environmental Context on the South Coast
The Cape Floral Region (CFR, Fig.18.1), a thin strip of land stretching from the
east to the west coast, has many special characteristics (Cowling 1992; Goldblatt
1997; Cowling and Lombard 2002; Goldblatt and Manning 2002). This relatively
small 90,000 km2 region has about 9,000 plant species, making its diversity near to
that of tropical rainforests with larger area, rainfall, and energy, and it has a very
high diversity of endemic floral taxa (69%). The three largest vegetation types are
fynbos, renosterveld, and succulent Karoo. Fynbos, the largest of the three, is domi-
nated by mainly low-height, nonsprouting (postfire) shrubs with limited dispersal,
few grasses, and few trees. Pinnacle Point is nearly exactly in the middle of the
east–west extent of the CFR, and today it is the location of limestone and sandstone
fynbos. At Pinnacle Point (average annual rainfall = 375 mm, average annual tem-
perature = 17°C), more rain falls in the summer than winter and it is overall bimodel,
and the region is warmed by the Agulhas current (Fig.18.1).
The diversity of geophytes (17% of all species) in the CFR is of special impor-
tance to hunter-gatherers – this diversity far exceeds other Mediterranean-climate
biomes (Cowling and Proches 2005; Proches et al. 2005). It is widely recognized
that geophytes were likely a prominent component in hominin diet (Hatley and
Kappelman 1980; Wrangham et al. 1999). Geophytes are a preferred food source
generally for the Khoi-San hunter-gatherers of the southern Africa subregion
(Tanaka 1969; Lee 1975) and of hunter-gatherers more generally in Africa (Vincent
1984, 1985). Geophyte remains are abundant in Later Stone Age (LSA) archaeo-
logical sediments (Parkington 1980, 1981). Geophytes typically have high yields of
carbohydrate, temporal predictability, and humans face a relative lack of competi-
tors for their exploitation compared to aboveground fruits, nuts, and seeds. I differ
from Parkington who writes “Arguably it was the incentive provided by the poor
and seasonal resources of the near coastal landscape juxtaposed to very productive
intertidal ecosystems that persuaded people to experiment with and then emphasize
the collection of marine foods.” (Parkington 2001:330) This superdiversity of bulbs
must have been extremely productive for hunter-gatherers, and the seasonality
reduced in the bimodel rainfall south coast.
The CFR is distributed in a long thin line along one of the richest coastlines in
the world (Branch and Branch 1992; Bustamante and Branch 1996), at the conflu-
ence of the Benguella Upwelling and the Agulhas Current (Lutjeharms et al. 2001).
This creates a varying oceanic environment from west (cold water, lower diversity,
424 C.W. Marean
Fig. 18.1 Location of Pinnacle Point and other sites cited in the text in South Africa, the major
vegetation zones, distribution of C3 and C4 grasses and configuration of offshore platform.
(a) Distribution of C4 grasses as a percentage of all grasses (from Vogel 1978) (b) distribution of
vegetation biomes in South Africa, (c) the location of sites mentioned relative to the coast and off-
shore platform. Base image of South Africa and oceanic topography from NASA World Wind, and
the offshore platform transect was generated from the 3D Paleoscape model (Fisher et al. 2010)
greater biomass) to east (warmer water, increasing diversity, lower biomass) but
with a mix of cold and warm eddies along the south coast. The result is that the
south coast provides a diverse and dense shellfish population on the rocky intertidal
zones of the quartzitic sandstones of the Table Mountain Group (TMS) and coastal
beach rocks and eolianites, as well as sandy beach species. Once a forager expands
their diet to shellfish, the south coast provides an excellent protein source in the
form of shellfish. Other protein sources are available as well, including Cape Fur
seal, which can be hunted at onshore rookeries, or scavenged from wash-ups
(Parkington 1976, 1977; Marean 1986). A diverse rocky shoreline fish population
rounds out the marine offerings (van der Elst 2000), and seabirds are available for
hunting and as wash-ups (Avery 1987).
The glacial aridity that depresses terrestrial productivity has a more ameliorated
impact on shellfish densities and diversity, and in fact biomass increases as ocean
temperatures decrease across the south coast (Branch and Branch 1992). Geophytes
are well adapted to arid conditions, and the high endemic diversity of this group in
the CFR shows clearly that geophytes were always abundant even during the harshest
climate cycles (Proches et al. 2005, 2006). So both shellfish and geophytes would
have remained a stable source of food through the glacial MIS cycle.
The bi-model rainfall of the south coast, and the relatively less harsh climate
compared to the west coast, makes this region relatively lacking in seasonality. This
geographic confluence of diverse geophytes, rich shellfish beds, and ameliorated
climate provide a unique (for Africa) rich co-association of carbohydrate and protein
that even during cold dry conditions of MIS6 would have continued to be productive
and predictable, unlike other African floral and faunal biomes from interior locations
and further to the west. This produced a singularly rich refugium zone for early
modern humans during MIS6 on the south coast. I call this the Cape Floral Region –
South Coast Model for the origins of modern humans (Marean 2008).
The gradual slope of the Agulhas bank produced a Pleistocene coastline that
regressed and transgressed in association with glacials and interglacials, respec-
tively. We have developed a 3D paleoscape model that generates estimates of the
distance and placement of the coastline at 1.5 ka increments through the last
440,000 years (Marean et al. 2007; Fisher et al. 2010). This model shows us that
the coastline was at times as far away as 90 km during glacial maxima. A high-
resolution speleothem record, dated between 92 and 55 ka (Bar-Matthews et al.
2010), suggests that during colder periods, as the sea level dropped, the south coast
received more summer rain and the neocoastline was enveloped in more C4 grassy
vegetation. The CFR may have followed the coastline out onto the Agulhas bank.
The Evolution of the Coastal Adaptation
Systematic coastal adaptations are well-known throughout the world where coastal
resources are productive (Erlandson 2001). Hunter-gatherers may occasionally
exploit coastal and littoral foods to supplement a largely terrestrial diet, and other
terrestrial mammals (such as baboons, Hall 1962) do this as well. But there are
many ethnographic examples of hunter-gatherer adaptations of varying levels of
complexity focused on coastal resources, such as the Australian Gidjingali shellfish
collectors (Meehan 1982), the Tlingit of the Northwest coast of North America
(Moss 1993), and the Chumash of California (Gamble 2008).
426 C.W. Marean
In these coastal adaptations, hunter-gatherers design mobility systems to

intercept the coast for significant portions of the year (or even stay there all year),
the people receive a substantial portion of their protein from shellfish and fish,
they embed in cultural knowledge and traditions the importance of the lunar
scheduling of the tides, and they schedule their activities, and sometimes world-
view, around the tidal rhythms of the sea. Some of this complex lunar-tidal cul-
tural knowledge characteristic of people with coastal adaptations has been
captured in rare hunter-gatherer ethnography and historical literature (Meehan
1982; Moss 1993; Gamble 2008) but is better known from populations that are
now either food producers or embedded in agricultural economies (Cordell 1974;
Alves et al. 2005; Nishida et al. 2006a, b). In archaeological contexts, this coastal
adaptation is archaeologically manifested by substantial portions of marine ani-
mals occurring as food remains in archaeological sites, or even “shell middens,”
where the sedimentary matrix is substantially or predominantly shell (Erlandson
and Moss 2001; Erlandson 2001). Other ways to identify a coastal adaptation
include stable isotope analysis of skeletal material (Sealy and Van der Merwe
1987; Sealy and Sillen 1988), but to date such analyses have not been conducted
on the rather small South African MSA hominin sample.
The South African archaeological record provides the world’s earliest and rich-
est record for the origins and evolution of the coastal adaptation. Until recently, this
record was restricted to sites that postdate the MIS5e high sea stand (~123 ka). This
is almost certainly due to a series of related phenomena. First, many of the caves
and rockshelters in coastal South Africa are below +10 msl, and thus the sediments
were subject to being washed out or seriously eroded by the MIS5e high sea stand,
which stood at +5–6 msl (Hearty et al. 2007). Second, MIS6 populations were
likely quite small, and probably focused their residential core near the coast, which
during MIS6 would put their sites out on the coastal platform, and now underwater,
on much of the South African coast (Marean et al. 2007; Fisher et al. 2010).
These post-MIS5e MSA sites (Fig.18.2 and 18.3), with rich records of shellfish
collection, include Klasies River (Singer and Wymer 1982; Deacon and Geleijnse
1988), on the Tzitizikamma on the east portion of the south coast, and Blombos Cave
(Henshilwood et al. 2001b), on the west of the south coast. Die Kelders Cave 1 is a
difficult case because identifiable shellfish are not preserved in the MSA deposits, but
traces of shellfish have been identified in micromorphology (Goldberg 2000), so it is
possible that shellfish were once well represented there. Cape fur seal remains appear
regularly but at low levels through the sequence (Marean et al. 2000; Klein and Cruz-
Uribe 2000). The Die Kelders Cave 1 dating results so far have produced widely
scattered ages (Feathers and Bush 2000; Schwarcz and Rink 2000). For these reasons,
I do not discuss it further here. A more recently excavated site, Ysterfontein 2, has
several occupations with dense shellfish representation (Halkett et al. 2003; Avery
et al. 2008). However, the age of the deposits is unclear, so it is currently impossible to
fit the sequence into an analysis of the development of a marine adaptation. Pinnacle
Point provides a unique sequence by virtue of its extension into MIS6 at PP13B.
PP5–6 is currently under excavation and provides a sequence so far back to ~80 ka and
likely older (Brown et al. 2009), but the shellfish have not yet been studied.
Fig. 18.2 Map of the major sites mentioned in the text
In Tables 18.1 and 18.2, I summarize the record from this set of sites. The shellfish
from Blombos Cave have been reported in a preliminary manner (Henshilwood
et al. 2001b), while the Klasies River shellfish have received more detailed treat-
ment (Voigt 1973; Thackeray 1988). PP13B have been described in detail (Marean
et al. 2007; Jerardino and Marean 2010). Along the left column of each table,
I establish several temporal spans that range from ~170 to ~50 ka, which is currently
the maximum dated time range of the coastal MSA. Most of the ages in South
Africa have been determined by optically stimulated luminescence (OSL), ther-
moluminescence (TL), and electron spin resonance (ESR). With each of these
techniques, the 2-sigma precision is often at 10–30% of the age. In the case of TL
and ESR, there is often significant scatter to the published ages from the same lay-
ers, while this is not so typical of single-grain OSL. Overall, this means that there
428 C.W. Marean
Table 18.1 The appearance of exploitation of rocky shores and both rocky and sandy shores in
shellfish collections from four archaeological sites along the south coast of South Africa
Age ka Blombos Cave PP13B PP9 Klasies River
70–50 X X X Rocky/Sandy
90–70 Rocky X X Sandy/Rocky
Rocky
120–90 Rocky Sandy/Rocky Rocky Rocky
Rocky Rocky
125–120 X Rocky X X
170–160 X Rocky X X
If a site has two distinct occupations within a time interval, then this is indicated by more than one
line of text within that time interval. An X indicates that no occupation is known or published
during that time interval
Table 18.2 The appearance of different shellfish intertidal collection zones (Cochlear Zone,
Lower Balanoid Zone, and Upper Balanoid Zone) in four archaeological sites along the south
coast of South Africa
Cochlear Zone Lower Balanoid Zone Upper Balanoid
Age ka (very low spring tide) (low spring tide) Zone (low neap tide)
70–50 Klasies Klasies Klasies
Klasies Klasies Klasies
90–70 Blombos Klasies Blombos Klasies Blombos
Blombos Blombos Klasies Blombos
120–90 Klasies Klasies
PP13B PP9
PP13B PP9
125–120 PP13B
170–160 PP13B
Also indicated in parentheses is the minimum tide needed to safely exploit that zone on the south
coast. If a site has two distinct occupations within a time interval, then this is indicated by the site
being listed on more than one line of text within that time interval
is quite a bit of room for temporal uncertainty – I try to take this into account.
In Table 18.1, I list the major sites across the top and then indicate if the site has an
occupation in that temporal span (if not this is indicated by an “X”). If it does have
an occupation, I indicate whether the shellfish signal a “rocky shore” exploitation,
or a “sandy beach/rocky shore.” In the latter case, this is signaled by high frequen-
cies of the sand mussel Donax serra. No sites show an exclusive use of sandy
beaches. Rocky shore exploitation is signaled by mussels, various species of lim-
pets, and Turbo (locally called alikreukal), and it is common to have an exclusive
“rocky shore” signal.
In Table 18.2, I take the same sites and temporal groups and indicate the deepest
portion of the intertidal zone that is represented by the shellfish. Over the last several
years, I have made systematic observations on the safety of access and exposure of
shellfish at Pinnacle Point (a TMS rocky intertidal zone directly exposed to the
Indian Ocean) and Tergniet/Rhebok (a gradually sloping planed-off beachrock and
eolianite reef in a more protected context within Mossel Bay). These observations
show that even at the top of the intertidal zone (Upper Balanoid Zone), where
brown mussels dominate, regular safe collection is only possible during low tides.
Further into the intertidal zone (Lower Balanoid and Cochlear Zone), this pattern is
accentuated, and low spring tide is the only time one can gain safe access. Storms
and rough seas further reduce periods of safe access. Thus, the range of shellfish
exploited coupled to knowledge of their relative positions in the tidal zone is a
potential proxy for how attentive hunter-gatherers are to the tidal rhythms of the
sea, and how strictly they may be scheduling their visits to the coast.
While our sample from South Africa includes only a few sites, these few sites
sample a wide range of time and provide adequate samples that have been well
described. The summarization in Tables 18.1 and 18.2 clearly shows a temporally
vectored change in the way these early modern humans exploited the intertidal
zone. True shell middens first appear early in MIS5; however, I do want to caution
that the lack of true shell middens at earlier periods may partially reflect dissolution
of shell, as clearly happened at PP13B in the LC-MSA (Marean et al. 2007). The
earliest occupations show an exclusive use of rocky intertidal zones and only the
Upper Balanoid zone. This zone can be exploited at low neap tide but is best uti-
lized at low spring tide. The relative lack of Lower Balanoid species is striking and
may signal that people are not scheduling their visits during low spring tides or
have not yet sufficiently intensified their coastal adaptation to the point that they
have pushed into the harder to exploit limpets of the Lower Balanoid zone. This
expansion first begins to appear within MIS5, where true shell middens appear at
both PP13B and Klasies River. Klasies River shows a first expansion to the Lower
Balanoid Zone, and sandy beach exploitation first appears at PP13B. After this,
between 90 and 70 ka, there is a clear expansion to the full intertidal zone, all the
way to the Cochlear Zone, regular production of shell middens, and use of sandy
beaches and rocky shores. Given this apparent progression and intensification in
coastal adaptation, I want to address a question that I always hear when I discuss
the origins of the coastal adaptation – why did early humans wait so long to exploit
the sea and set in motion this development of the coastal adaptation?
The Challenge of Systematic Coastal Foraging
Tropical hunter-gatherers utilize mobility systems that we can divide into an annual
home range (the area used by a band within a year) and the daily foraging radius
(the area surrounding a residential site that can be exploited in one daily trip)
(Binford 1980, 1982; Kelly 1995). The ethnographic record from Africa, and in fact
the larger record from tropical to subtropical regions, shows that the use of space
around a residential site (camp or home base) is typified by daily foraging trips
defined by what a person can walk out and back in one day, generally 8–12 km
430 C.W. Marean
(Binford 1980, 1983; Kelly 1995), and this is well illustrated in Khoi San ethnography
(Lee 1972; Tanaka 1980; Silberbauer 1981).
This foraging radius is a zone that, over the time of its exploitation, will show
depleting foraging returns (McArthur and Pianka 1966; Charnov 1976; Krebs and
Davies 1981; Stephens and Krebs 1986; Smith 1991; Krebs et al. 1999). When
hunter-gatherers place their residential site directly on the coast, then if they eschew
coastal resources they are presented with a foraging radius of roughly 50% the size
and potential return of a comparable foraging radius that is further to the interior
and does not engulf the coast. This rather self-obvious result predicts that hunter-
gatherers should very rarely locate their residential sites at the coast if they do not
forage off coastal resources. Keeping in mind that a site on the coast has half the
exploitable terrestrial area of a site more than 10 km inland, this means that we
would not expect sites to be on the coast until hominins commanded the ability to
drive up return rates from coastal resources to equal or surpass the returns for fully
terrestrial site locations. How do hominins accomplish this?
The shellfish exploited by early modern humans on the south coast were all
intertidal, so tidal variation is crucial to scheduling of coastal visits. Tidal variation
occurs at several levels – yearly (the presence and absence of equinox tides), lunar
month (spring and neap tides), and lunar day (low and high tides), with the latter
two being most significant to a forager, though it has been noted that equinox tides
are monitored and targeted by foragers (Meehan 1982; Kyle et al. 1997). Lunar
monthly variation has two opposing states classified into spring and neap tides,
which are driven by lunar position relative to the sun (Fig.18.4). When the sun and
moon align, their gravitational forces are additive and spring tides occur where the
low tide is very low and the high tide is very high (tides “spring” back and forth).
Spring tides correspond to full and new moons. When the sun and moon are not
aligned, their gravitational force is subtractive, resulting in neap tides that hover
more tightly around the midtidal (mean sea level) mark.
In areas with gradual vertical decline of the offshore platform, such as the south
coast of South Africa, spring lows reveal substantial areas of the intertidal zone, and
these are the most productive and safest times to collect intertidal shellfish (Meehan
1982; Lasiak and Dye 1989; Kyle et al. 1997; de Boer et al. 2002). In rocky shores,
even foraging during spring lows requires vigilance for waves in the lowest exposed
areas (Lower Balanoid and Cochlear zone). A neap tide forager must target a nar-
row band of productivity that is subject to sudden wave onset. Since most low tides
occur during daylight only once per day, there is a very tight temporal band of
productive collecting available.
Ethnographic and historical accounts of hunter-gatherers document that shellfish
collecting is typically done by women and children (Bigalke 1973; Meehan 1982;
Hockey and Alison 1986; Claasen 1991; Moss 1993; Bird et al. 2002; de Boer et al.
2002). Women tend to focus food collection on low-risk and nondangerous foods,
and many of these same ethnographic accounts document a strong preference and
sometimes exclusive use of low spring-tide shellfish collection. My long-term
observations of tidal variation and safety of access around Mossel Bay shows that
only spring tides on the south coast present prolonged, safe, and easy access to
P P 13B O ther S outh

E P IC A D e lta D C oast M S A S ites
-460 -440 -420 -400 -380 -360 W estern E astern N orth-E astern
0 N orth-E ast 0
C ut F ill
10 S outh P it F ill
10
20 20
K lasies R iver
30 30
T runcation
P P 5-6
F ill
40 40
B lom bos
50 50
C ave C losed to
60 O ccupation b y 60
U pper LC-M S A
D une A b utting (F lo w stone)
70 70
C liff
80 80
LB S and -2
1
90 D B S and -3
2 90
U pper (U pper
S B S and
A ge (K a)
D une)
100 U R S pall 100
LB G S and U pper
A ge (K a)
110 LR S pall 110
U pper LC-M S A
120 LB G S and Low er D une) 120
M iddle M iddle LC-M S A
130 130
140 140
150 150
LB G S ands 2-4
160 D B S ands 4a-c
160
Low er LC-M S A
170 170
180 180
190 190
200 200
Fig. 18.3 Timescale of the sites where the shellfish characteristics are compared
rocky intertidal taxa, and this is particularly true of the Lower Balanoid zone and
below. Figure 18.4 schematizes these observations. This suggests that along the
south coast shellfish return rates, and thus the value of a coastal location for a resi-
dential site, rises and falls with the moon and tides. The returns of terrestrial
resources are seasonally driven and not subject to lunar patterns, so over a lunar
month coastal return rates fluctuate by lunar month around seasonally fluctuating
terrestrial resources.
Lunar-forced variation in availability and return poses several challenges for a
would-be human shellfish collector. Coastal locations inhabited during neap tides
will have relatively low return rates, while coastal locations inhabited during spring
432 C.W. Marean
sun and moon gravitational forces sun and moon gravitational sun and moon gravitational forces sun and moon gravitational
not additive = neap tide forces additive = spring tide not additive = neap tide forces additive = spring tide
150
100 Leave C oast G o to C oast Leave C oast G o to C oast

cm above mean sea level
50
−50
−100
−150
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
Day of Solar Month

Cum Return
Cum Return
Cum Return
Cum Return
T im e T im e T im e T im e
Fig. 18.4 Tidal variation relative to lunar cycle, and estimates of cumulative return rates and
movement patterns from it. The tidal variation for January 1998 and its tide gauge data from the
Mossel Bay tide gauge supplied by the South African Navy Hydrographic Office
tides will have relatively high return rates. Random use of the coast is highly
inefficient, and would be atypical for hunter-gatherers. A human forager should
schedule visits to coastal residential sites at times during the lunar month when
spring tides are present and then move slightly inland during neaps to broaden the
size of the exploitable terrestrial area. The math for calculating spring tides is rather
difficult if one relies on solar days. The lunar month is 27.3 solar days; tides
advance 25 min per tide, or 50 min per day.
I suggest that this unique lunar forcing of availability and return rates poses a
special cognitive challenge to the hominin forager and is doubly difficult, since
most of the time the lunar signal occurs at a time when one cannot see the tides (it
is nighttime). The complexity of estimating tides is why fisherman and other
coastal enthusiasts rely on complex printed tide schedules or programmed watches.
If a hominin forager is moving about the landscape, and wants to schedule their
visits to the coast so as to intercept the spring tides, they must have a clock of some
type, the main candidate being lunar observation.
Once a forager has moved to the coast, and is targeting shellfish, the forager still
faces the challenge of hitting the low tide. This may seem as easy as looking down
at the water, but this is only true if one has a clear and near view. Tidal conditions
are virtually impossible to see if one is not close to the shoreline, and they are very
hard to predict due to the 25 min advance of each tide relative to the solar day. The
lunatidal interval (the difference between the time that the moon passes the merid-
ian and the high tide) varies by geographic coordinate (at Mossel Bay it is about 3 h
and 16 min), so developing a comprehension of the relation between moon and tidal
variation requires recurrent observation. The obvious solution is to place one’s resi-
dential site right at the water’s edge, but that may not always be possible or conve-
nient. Meehan (1982) notes that even expert shellfish collectors regularly made
errors in timing the low tide, and once they arrived and found that they have missed
the low, they abandoned the foraging foray and walked back to camp, which was
typically set several kilometers back from shore.
Being an efficient human shellfish collector requires the novel connection of
lunar patterns to tidal variation to shellfish return rates and safety of collection,
substantial planning abilities, and communication of complex parameters between
group members. All of this is a signal that the enhanced working memory and
executive functions (Coolidge and Wynn 2009) of the modern human intellect are
in place. Only marine and littoral foods vary by the lunar clock, making the recog-
nition of the lunar to tidal link a clear novel connection, and its multigeneration
implementation and refinement a potent example of the ratchet effect. I suggest that
coastal settlement became energetically efficient when humans developed the cog-
nitive complexity necessary to understand the relationship between lunar stages and
spring tides. The complex lunar-based systems for monitoring and communicating
lunar time and tidal variation that are well documented ethnographically (Cordell
1974; Alves et al. 2005; Nishida et al. 2006a, b) would develop to embed this
knowledge and facilitate its teaching. Once the settlement is within walking dis-
tance of the coast (but not immediately adjacent), timing the visit to intercept the
low tide required equally difficult timing and planning.
How do other animals that are not cognitively advanced exploit intertidal
resources, and schedule their rhythms around tides and lunar schedules? Among
sea animals behaviors that schedule to tidal rhythms are almost all certainly
genome-based behavior. The rocky shoreline fish of course have the majority of
their behavior embedded in the genome, so natural selection has driven their adap-
tation. Some seabirds, such as oyster catchers (Haematopus moquini), utilize rocky
intertidal species (in this case, limpets and mussels). Unlike humans, they can avoid
swells through flying straight up and almost certainly like fish have a genome-
based behavioral adaptation to tidal patterns. It goes without saying that humans
lack this genome-based knowledge – if we had this we would not require tide
charts, watches, or cultural systems of lunar-tidal knowledge. I know of no terres-
trial mammal that, like humans, has an adaptation that joins terrestriality with
persistent and focused use of coastal resources. Some, such as baboons, are known
to exploit shellfish occasionally and opportunistically, but these are not coastal
adaptations as defined above.
This terrestrial lifeway joined to persistent use of marine resources is another
uniquely human adaptation, one that occurs late in the human origins story. I think
that the systematic and efficient shellfish collection by early modern humans
required the evolution of cognitive complexity that made its first appearance roughly
434 C.W. Marean
coincident to when the modern human lineage first appeared (~200–140 ka). This
allowed the novel connection between moon and coastal food, and opened an
entirely new niche for humans that had many important benefits.
Conclusions
The south coast of South Africa has an unusual confluence of plant diversity,
coastline richness, and moderate climate that I think provided the ideal conditions
for a refuge for the bottlenecked modern human lineage during the long cold MIS6.
The expansion of this population’s diet to shellfish was likely crucial to their
survival and provided the ideal conditions for the development of the complexities
in behavior expressed in the archaeological record from this region. The earliest
evidence for shellfish exploitation comes from this region at ~164 ka, but I suspect
that early modern humans were exploiting shellfish out on the now submerged
continental shelf before this date. I have proposed that their ability to expand their
diet to this new resource was a benefit of the development of the modern human
cognition that appeared coincident with the origin of the modern human lineage.
A complex cognition characterized by fully modern working memory and execu-
tive functions allowed them to link lunar phases to tidal rhythms and, thus, develop
an effective way to schedule visits to the coast in a manner that maximized returns
from the coastal resources. Once this was done, this set in motion a progressive
increase in the complexity of the marine adaptation along with an increasing
emphasis on coastal resources that culminated by 90 ka with dense shell midden
accumulations with collection at the Lower Balanoid Zone and Cochlear Zone,
and the use of both rocky and sandy beach contexts. Throughout this time, there
is regular, but rare, use of marine mammals such as Cape fur seal and whales,
probably through scavenging. By 70 ka, there is the first rare evidence for fishing
(Henshilwood et al. 2001b). Upon entering the Holocene, the full range of coastal
prey, short of deep-sea fishing and diving, is common in South African sites
(Jerardino et al. 2008).
The expansion of the diet to marine foods must have had major, cascading
impacts on human diet, nutrition, technology, and mobility. Omega-3 fatty acids are
critical to healthy brain growth and placental development, and while marine foods
are not the only source (Langdon 2007), they are the best source and their addition
to the diet can have substantial fitness benefits (Broadhurst et al. 2002). Unlike the
latter authors (see also (Parkington 2003; Parkington et al. 2009)), I do not think
that the addition of marine foods stimulated the development of the modern human
cognition. Rather, this dietary expansion was a consequence of that cognition. I do
agree though that a coastal niche provided excellent incubation conditions for the
material cultural expression of behavioral complexity and may explain the rather
singular material cultural complexity evident in the South African archaeological
record during this crucial phase in the origins of modern humans.
Coastal adaptations facilitate larger group size and reduced mobility (Erlandson
2001). These larger group sizes place added selective pressure on more effective
mechanisms for mediation of social relationships. The typical economic contract
between men and women, where men provide the protein, is challenged by the coastal
adaptation, with possible widespread effects on intersex relations. We can possibly
expect social structures with greater evenness if protein is supplied by women
(Hawkes 1996; Hawkes and Bliege-Bird 2002) but also by women collecting shellfish
in relatively unthreatening circumstances with their children. With further fieldwork,
high-quality methods, and highly resolved chronology, we may be able to investigate
these interesting possibilities with this rich coastal archaeological record.
Acknowledgements I thank SAHRA and Heritage Western Cape for providing permits to conduct
excavations at Pinnacle Point and export of specimens for analysis. I also thank the Mossel Bay
community, Mossel Bay municipality, the staff of the Dias museum, and the Cape Nature
Conservation. Our project, SACP4, is funded by the National Science Foundation (US) (grants #
BCS-9912465, BCS-0130713, and BCS-0524087 to Marean), the Hyde Family Foundation, the
Institute of Human Origins at Arizona State University, and Arizona State University. Thanks to
Jocelyn Bernatchez, Hope Williams, and Erich Fisher for the production of the figures. Additionally,
I thank Kim Hill and Antonieta Jerardino for stimulating discussions over issues discussed in this
chapter and offering many useful counterpoints, some that I have ceded to.
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Chapter 19
Coastal Foragers on Southern Shores:
Marine Resource Use in Northeast Australia
since the Late Pleistocene
Sean Ulm
Introduction
The sea is central to the lives of contemporary coastal Aboriginal and Torres Strait
Islander people across northeast Australia. Indigenous histories and documentary
sources show the sea to be a vital source of subsistence, raw materials, spirituality
and connection with other peoples. Coasts, and especially islands, were a focus of
occupation, with high population densities linked to low mobility along the length
of the Queensland coast. But what are the antecedents of these people–sea relation-
ships? In this review, the archaeological evidence for coastal foraging across
northeast Australia from the late Pleistocene is explored and the main themes and
challenges in developing an understanding of how coastal resources figured in the
lives of ancient Australians are discussed.
Queensland in northeast Australia is taken as the focus of the review (Fig. 19.1).
This region has received renewed attention in archaeological debates, with genetic
evidence identifying adjacent Papua New Guinea as one of several likely entry
points for colonisation of the continent (see review in van Holst Pellekaan 2008).
The earliest occupation of northeast Sahul (the combined landmass of Papua New
Guinea, Australia and Tasmania) occurred between 40 and 50 RCYBP (David et al.
2007). Given that many of the earliest sites are located far inland, we can assume
that people arrived on the northern coast of Sahul some time before 50 RCYBP, most
likely between 50 and 60ka BP. Many commentators have noted that the required
island-hopping route to Australia prefigures a strong coastal adaptation (Bowdler
1977; Bulbeck 2007). Although coastlines were clearly important in the initial colo-
nisation and subsequent dispersal of people in Australia (Rowland 1996), the role of
coastal areas in these early economies is debated (Beaton 1995; Veth et al. 2007).
S. Ulm (*)
Department of Anthropology, Archaeology and Sociology, School of Arts and Social Sciences,
James Cook University, PO Box 6811, Cairns, QLD 4870, Australia
442 S. Ulm
Fig. 19.1 Distribution of dated archaeological sites in northeast Australia (Ulm and Reid 2000).
Sites mentioned in the text are named
Over the last 2 decades, general syntheses of regional archaeological patterns

have emerged for well-studied parts of northeast Australia, emphasising signi-
ficant increases in coastal site numbers and use since the mid-Holocene (Fig. 19.2)
(e.g. Barham 2000; Barker 2004; McNiven 1999; Ulm 2006; Ulm and Hall 1996;
Walters 1989). Many of these studies emphasise the primary role of marine
resources in the elaboration of social complexity (e.g. Barker 2004; Walters 1992).
However, others have pointed to environmental (Rowland 1999), sampling (Ulm
2004) and preservation factors (Bird 1992; Rowland 1989) that may be responsible
for shaping these archaeological patterns. These issues are explored here through a
review of the environmental context for human settlement and use of the coasts
and consideration of the archaeological evidence for coastal occupation since the
late Pleistocene.
19 Coastal Foragers on Southern Shores 443
Fig. 19.2 Number of new sites established on the Queensland coast in each millennium (Ulm and
Reid 2000)
Environmental Considerations
The Queensland coastline is 13,347 km in length and extends through 19° of latitude.
The east coast is dominated by the Great Barrier Reef and the north coast by the
shallow Torres Strait separating Australia and New Guinea and the broad Gulf of
Carpentaria to the west of Cape York Peninsula. Islands are a prominent feature,
with 1955 islands comprising 6,374 km of coastline (Geoscience Australia 2009a, b).
Coastlines grade from high-energy sandy beaches anchored to rocky headlands in
the south to low-energy depositional coastlines across much of northeast Australia.
The length of the coast is punctuated by extensive estuaries and embayments
bordered by saltflats and claypans comprising recent sediments (Hopley 1985).
Coastal conditions in northeast Australia were very much different from
today for most of the length of human occupation. At the height of the last glacial
maximum (21–19ka cal BP) sea levels retreated as much as 123 m, connecting
northeast Australia to New Guinea across Torres Strait and enlarging the current
landmass by more than one quarter (Fig. 19.1) (Hanebuth et al. 2009). On the east
coast the continental shelf is up to 250 km wide and at times of maximum low sea
444 S. Ulm
level would have had a limestone ridge comprising ancient coral reefs created
during earlier high-sea stands along its seaward margin, terminating in a sea cliff
where it intersected the continental rise. Mulvaney and Kamminga (1999:116)
among others have suggested that sea caves formed at the base of these limestone
cliffs may have provided locales for early human occupation of Australian coast-
lines. For much of the late Pleistocene the northwest of Queensland (the present-
day Gulf of Carpentaria) was part of a broad low-lying savannah corridor linking
Australia and New Guinea and dominated by a large freshwater lake (Lake
Carpentaria) fed by rivers from both northern Australia and southern Papua New
Guinea (Fig. 19.1). Between c.40 and c.12.2ka BP Lake Carpentaria was fully
lacustrine, reaching its maximum extent of c.190,000 km2 around 14ka BP followed
by first marine incursion associated with sea-level rise at 12.2ka BP (Reeves et al.
2007). Palaeoenvironmental studies suggest that the exposed coastal plain was
vegetated by savannah grasslands and woodlands. Although access to coastal
resources by people may have been difficult at periods of maximum sea-level fall,
expanded river valleys across the continental shelf would have offered a range of
resource zones, some perhaps with no modern correlates.
Shortly before 19ka cal BP, sea levels began to rise with a rapid period of trans-
gression in the terminal Pleistocene (Hanebuth et al. 2009). The great width and
low gradient of the continental shelf in northeast Australia meant that sea-level rise
shifted the coastline by more than 1,000 km in places such as the Gulf of Carpentaria
(Sullivan 1996). As Mulvaney and Kamminga (1999:121) note, this would have
created an intertidal zone up to several kilometres wide, dramatically impacting on
the structure of coastal resources and during some periods bringing each high tide
higher than the last one.
By the early Holocene the coastline would have been close to its present position
around much of northeast Australia. Sea levels peaked +1.0 to +1.5 m above current
sea levels between c.7,000–7,500 and c.2,000 cal BP, before dropping to approxi-
mately modern values (Lewis et al. 2008; Sloss et al. 2007). Recent studies also
suggest oscillations around 4,800 and 3,000 cal BP associated with sea-level falls,
which impacted on the growth of coral reefs and intertidal shellfish communities
(Lewis et al. 2008).
Beaton (1995) distinguished between procumbent and precipitous coastal
profiles. Procumbent coastlines dominate northeast Australia and are characterised
by low-energy shorelines with gentle slopes. Precipitous coasts comprising
steep rocky shores are more common in southern Australia. This is a key distinc-
tion in understanding the impacts of marine transgression on coastal foragers.
The impact of rising sea levels on precipitous shorelines is primarily in the verti-
cal dimension, where relative stability might be expected in the distribution of
resources and the potential for survival of occupation sites. However, procumbent
coasts are primarily affected horizontally, with dramatic redistributions of
resource zones associated with major landscape reconfigurations, associated with
low site preservation rates.
Late Pleistocene/Early Holocene (50–6ka BP)
There is strong evidence that people have used coastal resources since initial
colonisation of the continent. Rockshelters in Island Melanesia on the northeast
periphery of the expanded continent of Sahul contain sometimes dense assemblages
of marine resources dating to the late Pleistocene (e.g. Allen et al. 1989). Late
Pleistocene coastal resource use has also been reported from parts of Australia
which have always been in close proximity to the sea, particularly in the northwest
of the continent (e.g. Morse 1988; O’Connor 1999; Veth et al. 2007). Although the
first direct evidence for marine resource use in northeast Australia dates to the early
Holocene (see below), one can assume that the coasts of northeast Australia were
also used from the earliest period of occupation. Early marine resource use is
poorly documented because few coastal sites date to before the mid-Holocene,
many others presumably having been inundated by sea-level rise. Beaton (1995)
pointed out that the few coastal subsistence remains which survive from the late
Pleistocene cannot be construed as coastal economies and in the only major study
available, Veth et al. (2007) convincingly argue that marine resources dating to this
period were just one component of broad-based economies.
Beaton (1985) suggested that the coastal zone would have been abandoned with
sea-level rise and only recolonised in the late Holocene when stable coastal
resource communities were established after sea-level stabilisation. The notion of a
time-lag between sea-level stabilisation and coastal occupation, related to the slow
development of littoral resources, has been persistent in explaining changes in
Australian coastal resource use (e.g. Hall and Robins 1984; Lampert and Hughes
1974; McCarthy 1943; Walters 1989, 1992). Palaeoenvironmental data, however,
indicate that a variety of marine communities were in place by the end of the marine
transgression. Radiocarbon determinations on relict Holocene shellbeds in southern
Queensland demonstrate the presence of a variety of molluscan communities by
7,500 BP (e.g. Wood and King 1974). Fringing coral reefs were also present in
near-shore areas before the mid-Holocene (Hekel et al. 1979; Woodroffe et al.
2000), suggesting that marine fauna associated with coral communities may have
also been present by this time (cf. Barham 2000:284). Cores from coastal areas and
the drowned continental shelf also show the persistence of mangrove communi-
ties throughout the transgression (Hull 2005). The presence of mud crab (Scylla
serrata) in early Holocene archaeological deposits also demonstrates the presence
of taxa closely associated with mangrove communities (Barker 2004:141). Clearly,
elements of biologically diverse coastal environments were in place by the early
Holocene, but it is unclear whether resource availability and abundance are analo-
gous to today in the absence of detailed modelling of transgressive events and other
changes in marine and shoreline parameters to assess the impact of these events on
biological systems (e.g. Jablonski 1980).
Although the effects of environmental change on coastal resources in specific
contexts may have significantly influenced coastal occupation, the general applicability
446 S. Ulm
of the time-lag model has been overturned by the discovery of sites that demonstrate
the use of coastal resources throughout the marine transgression. Yet rising seas
clearly impacted on patterns of human occupation. McConvell (1996), using linguistic
data, suggested that widespread migrations took place in the early to mid-Holocene
related to rising sea levels. Others such as Mulvaney and Kamminga (1999:73),
however, “do not believe in widespread evacuations of people when the seas rose”,
instead arguing that the “regions that lost much territory quickly were probably
least inhabited”. The meagre archaeological evidence does not shed much light on
resolving these divergent views.
Wallen Wallen Creek on North Stradbroke Island in southeast Queensland pro-
vides one of the few Australian examples of a site that spans the transition from
pre-coastal (terrestrial) to coastal (marine) assemblages. Radiocarbon dates place
first occupation of the site at 21,800 ± 400 RCYBP (OxA-806), when it would have
been located c.40 km inland on the edge of a major river valley. Although the site
dates from the late Pleistocene, faunal remains are restricted to the upper deposit,
dated to the last c.4,000 years. People initially focused on terrestrial resource
exploitation (including wallabies and snakes), but then shifted their focus in the last
2,000 years to coastal resources (fish and shellfish) (Neal and Stock 1986).
Only three other coastal sites in Queensland are known to date to before the
mid-Holocene (Table 19.1). Occupation of the Badu 15 rockshelter on Badu Island
in Torres Strait dates from 8,053 ± 42 RCYBP (Wk-11947), when the island was
still connected to the Australian mainland (David et al. 2004). After isolation, the
site appears to have been effectively abandoned from 6,000 RCYBP until continuous
occupation recommenced in the last 3,500 years. The site contains only stone arte-
facts, but its location 3 km from the modern coast does indicate that people were
occupying coastal areas in the extreme north of Australia in the early Holocene,
although the nature of that occupation is unknown.
The earliest direct dates for the use of coastal resources come from the Whitsunday
Islands, where oyster (Saccostrea sp.) has been dated to 6,700 ± 60 RCYBP (ANU-
11381) at Nara Inlet 1 and 6,440 ± 90 RCYBP (Beta-56976) at Border Island 1
(Barker 2004; Lamb and Barker 2001). These remarkable sites are located on rocky
continental islands adjacent to deep water and were never far from the coast through-
out the final stages of marine transgression. Nara Inlet 1 has a non-basal date on
charcoal of 8,150 ± 80 RCYBP (Beta-27835) and a sequence showing continuing use
of coastal resources from initial occupation (cf. Sim and Wallis 2008). Like Badu 15,
Nara Inlet 1 (and possibly Border Island 1) was on a landform connected to the
mainland at the time of first occupation. Rock platform gastropods dominate the
shellfish assemblage, especially Nerita undata, with increases in discard in the last
2,000 years. Barker (1996, 2004) argues for a trajectory from ephemeral use of
coastal resources in the earliest period towards specialised marine economies
emphasising turtle and dugong procurement associated with intensive occupation
such as that documented ethnographically in northern Australia (McNiven and
Bedingfield 2008). Close examination of the data suggests alternative interpreta-
tions. Particularly problematic are Barker’s (2004) arguments for an increasing focus
on turtle and dugong through time. At Nara Inlet 1, Barker (2004:141) calculates
Table 19.1 Queensland coastal and island sites with median calibrated ages for first occupation
greater than 3000 cal BP (Ulm and Reid 2000)
Median
Radiocarbon calibrated age
Site age (RCYBP) (cal BP) Lab. No. Material
Wallen Wallen 8,200 ± 90 9,103 OxA-809 Charcoal
Creeka
Nara Inlet 1 8,150 ± 80 9,022 Beta-27835 Charcoal
Badu 15 8,053 ± 42 8,866 Wk-11947 Charcoal
Border Island 1 6,440 ± 90 6,917 Beta-56976 Saccostrea sp.
Walaemini 5,210 ± 80 5,557 ANU-3041b Anadara granosa
Rockshelter
New Brisbane 4,830 ± 110 5,497 Beta-33342 Charcoal
Airport
Teewah 4,780 ± 80 5,457 Beta-25512 Charcoal
Beach 26
Hope Island 4,350 ± 220 4,884 Beta-20799 Charcoal
Mazie Bay 4,274 ± 94 4,733 NZA-456 Charcoal
Badu 19 4,060 ± 50 4,221 OZH-968 Asaphis violascens
Seven Mile 3,780 ± 60 3,925 Wk-8327 A. trapezia
Creek Mound
Alkaline Hill 3,890 ± 70 3,847 ANU-3041a A. granosa
King’s Bore 3,560 ± 100 3,783 Beta-25510 Charcoal
Site 97
Mourilyan Midden 3,827 ± 172 3,779 Wk-11350 Charcoal
Mask Cave 3,540 ± 50 3,759 OZH-275 Charcoal
Bribie Island 9 3,280 ± 80 3,455 Beta-56566 Charcoal
St Bees Island 3,180 ± 150 3,324 Unknown Charcoal
Rockshelter
Mort Creek 3,430 ± 140 3,280 Wk-6986 A. trapezia
Site Complex
Eurimbula Site 1 3,020 ± 70 3,137 Wk-3945 Charcoal
Polka Point 3,020 ± 100 3,134 Beta-24540 Charcoal
Freshwater Bay 2,970 ± 80 3,070 Wk-2691 Charcoal
Midden
Booral Shell Mound 2,950 ± 60 3,038 Beta-32046 Charcoal
Curlew Island 2,930 ± 120 3,029 Beta-54204 Charcoal
Rockshelter
Median calibrated ages were calculated using OxCal 4.0 (Bronk Ramsey 1995)
a
See text
a turtle meat weight contribution of 3,814.8 kg based on just 6.2 g of turtle bone. As
Barker (2004:141) himself notes, the evidence for dugong is even more limited, with
only a single tentative identification made. Hiscock (2008:169–170) showed that the
Nara Inlet 1 and Border Island 1 assemblages actually demonstrate a trend towards
generalised shore-based foraging and away from the targeting of large marine rep-
tiles and mammals, with the highest rates of discard of turtle bone at Border Island
before 6,000 years ago. This interpretation is in keeping with patterns of expanding
diet breadth documented elsewhere in northeast Australia (see below).
448 S. Ulm
Evidence for the use of marine resources from the early Holocene in Whitsunday
Island rockshelters and sites elsewhere in Sahul located near palaeoshorelines and
the coincidence of widespread coastal occupation with the final stages of marine
transgression provide strong support for continuous use of coastal resources
throughout the marine transgression, with people simply following the transgres-
sive coastline (see Hall and Hiscock 1988; McNiven 1991; Rowland 1989).
Mid-Holocene (3–6ka BP)
Coastal archaeological sites older than 3,000 RCYBP are not common on the
Queensland coast (Table 19.1). Put another way, there is only one site dating to before
3,000 years ago for every 600 km of coastline. Increasing numbers of coastal sites are
known from around 5,500 RCYBP, broadly coincident with sea-level stabilisation. In
addition to the Whitsunday Islands sites noted above, elevated rockshelters preserving
evidence for marine resource exploitation appear at Princess Charlotte Bay (Walaemini
Rockshelter and Alkaline Hill; see Beaton 1985), in Torres Strait (Mask Cave; see
McNiven et al. 2006) and on islands off the central Queensland coast (St Bees and
Curlew Islands; see Border 1999). At Nara Inlet 1, discard of marine remains diversi-
fies with a major increase in shellfish and crab in addition to fish, and evidence of
predation pressure on the rock platform gastropod N. undata (Barker 2004). In west-
ern Torres Strait, low numbers of fish and turtle bone dating from c.3,800 years ago
were recovered from Mask Cave on Pulu, followed by significant increases in the
discard of marine material only in the last 2,500 years (McNiven et al. 2006).
Although 15 open sites on the Queensland coast date to this interval, only
three have evidence for focused marine resource exploitation pre-dating 3,000
RCYBP. The Hope Island site, with a non-basal age of 4,350 ± 220 RCYBP (Beta-
20799), contains abundant shell remains dominated by oyster, although fish bone is
apparently absent (Walters et al. 1987). Badu 19 yielded small quantities of shell
and fish, turtle and dugong bone from c.4200 years ago with major increases in the
last few thousand years matching patterns observed elsewhere in Torres Strait
(Crouch et al. 2007). The 4000-year-old dugong remains at Badu 19 represent the
earliest evidence for dugong use in northeast Australia.
Some of the earliest evidence for focused use of coastal resources comes from
the Seven Mile Creek Mound in central Queensland, built up over a period of 350
years between c.3950 and 3600 cal BP. The 44 m3 of deposits there represent broad
utilisation of intertidal and near-shore resources, including extensive shellfishing,
crabbing and fin fishing. Shell remains are dominated by oyster (Saccostrea glom-
erata), with lesser quantities of hairy mussel (Trichomya hirsutus), mud ark
(Anadara trapezia) and scallop (Pinctada albino sugillata). Fish remains occur
throughout the deposit, representing the major dietary contribution at the site, but
they are from very small fish and so suggest an inshore fishery (Ulm and Vale
2006). Although shell mounds are a relatively common feature of the coastal
archaeological record of northern Australia (see below), these site types are generally
restricted to locations north of the Tropic of Capricorn and are almost exclusively
late Holocene in age (Fig. 19.3) (e.g. Bailey 1999; Beaton 1985). The Booral
Shell Mound in Great Sandy Strait, dating to 3,000 years ago, is the only other
mound excavated on the Queensland coast south of the Tropic of Capricorn
(Frankland 1990), although reports indicate that other mounds existed in south-
east Queensland but have been destroyed (McNiven 1994). I have argued else-
where (Ulm 2006) that this early mounding behaviour points to logistical mobility
strategies targeting estuarine resources inconsistent with a pattern of widespread
residence on the coast. Rather, the use of the site appears to be embedded into
regional settlement systems with a subcoastal focus. The act of mounding is of
particular interest as it appears to be linked more to social factors defining discard
behaviours than resource availability.
The first unequivocal evidence for offshore island occupation is at Mazie Bay
on North Keppel Island (Rowland 1985) shortly before 4,500 RCYBP. No earlier
evidence for offshore island use has been forthcoming despite nearly 3 decades
elapsing since this discovery. As Rowland (2008:102) noted, it seems extraordinary
that humans colonised Australia more than 50,000 years ago by crossing large
distances of open ocean “but only began to re-cross minimal water barriers in the
last 4,000–3,000 years and with regularity only in the last 1,000 years”. Sim and
Wallis (2008) contended that offshore islands across northern Australia were aban-
doned around the time they became isolated from the mainland in the early
Holocene when sea-level maxima was attained, not to be reoccupied until after
4,200 years ago. There is a hint of mid-Holocene occupation at Badu 15 in Torres
Strait (David et al. 2004) and Nara Inlet 1 in the Whitsunday Islands (Barker 2004),
but even if these equivocal suggestions of use are proven they indicate only very
ephemeral occupation (Sim and Wallis 2008). Sim and Wallis (2008) argued that
climatic instability combined with poor watercraft technology precluded colonisa-
tion of islands in the intervening period. Amelioration of climate and improve-
ments in watercraft between 4,200 and 2,500 years ago are viewed as the
preconditions necessary for permanent island colonisation. However, these patterns
must be considered in the context of evidence for more intensive occupation of
mainland areas, which, David et al. (2004) point out, provided the origin for “sys-
tematic territorial and sea-based expansions across much of northeastern Australia”
in the mid-Holocene. Evidence for increasing use of islands after 4,000 years ago
appears along the length of the northeast Australian coast, including the remote
Percy Islands some 60 km offshore (Border 1999).
At all other open coastal sites in Queensland pre-dating 3,000 BP (n = 12)
(Table 19.1), faunal remains are either entirely absent, represented in minute quan-
tities or restricted to deposits dating to the last 3000 years. The absence of faunal
remains from these early deposits is commonly attributed to ephemeral occupation,
taphonomic considerations and/or problematic recovery strategies (Ross and Duffy
2000; Ulm 2002). McNiven (1991) suggested that the survival of fish bone in
southeast Queensland deposits may be correlated with the occurrence of shell, as
shellfish remains provide a protective matrix, creating chemical properties condu-
cive to bone preservation. This pattern may also reflect the low survival potential
450 S. Ulm
and reduced archaeological visibility of low-intensity coastal resource use (Dortch

et al. 1984; Mulvaney and Kamminga 1999:174). Does the paucity of marine food
remains in these sites mean that coastal resources were not much used prior to
3,000 years ago? Walters (1989, 1992) has consistently argued that marine fishing
was only incorporated as a regular feature of subsistence-settlement systems in
southeast Queensland after 2,000 RCYBP. However, data now available from the
length of the Queensland coast clearly show that fishes were always a key resource
(Crouch et al. 2007; McNiven et al. 2006; Ulm 2002; Ulm and Vale 2006).
On the basis of these data, coastal occupation before c.3,000 RCYBP in north-
east Australia is often characterised as low density and ephemeral, and linked to
low population densities and high levels of mobility (e.g. Barker 1996, 2004; David
et al. 2004; McNiven 1999; Ulm 2006). Notwithstanding problems associated
with small sample sizes and differential preservation, these data suggest patterns of
geographically focused, short-term and discontinuous occupation prior to the late
Holocene.
Late Holocene (0–3ka BP)
The majority of known coastal archaeological sites in northeastern Australia date

to the last millennium (Fig. 19.2). In many areas a trend towards increased site
creation and use around 1000 years ago is reflected in structural changes in the
archaeological record. Most significant is the widespread appearance of shellfish
remains, as evidenced by the dramatic increase in coastal shell middens, a site type
which only appeared in the mid-Holocene (Figs. 19.4 and 19.5). Several other studies
have also documented significant subsistence transformations in the late Holocene,
reflecting a general broadening of the subsistence base (e.g. Hiscock 2008;
Morwood 1987; Walters 1989). Lourandos (1997:161) has described these changes
as part of “a more specialised and broad-based coastal emphasis in the economy of
the most recent phase” (see also Barker 2004; McNiven 1999; Morwood 1987; Ulm
and Hall 1996; Walters 1989). Ulm and Hall (1996) dated these changes to 1,200
RCYBP in southeast Queensland and McNiven (1999) to 900 RCYBP for the adja-
cent Great Sandy Region. To the north, Barker (1996, 2004) associated increases in
diet breadth in the Whitsunday Islands from 600 years ago with the emergence of
specialised marine economies akin to those documented in the ethnohistoric record,
while Rowland (1982) found that the Keppel Islands were only permanently occu-
pied c.700 years ago.
My work on the central Queensland coast pointed to increasingly localised
resource use after 1,500 RCYBP (Ulm 2006). In addition to obvious increases in
coastal settlement and use of marine resources (especially fish and shellfish), stone
raw material sourcing becomes almost exclusively local. Exchange of edge-ground
hatchets manufactured on distinctive raw materials also points to the integration of
people into regional social networks in the recent past (Ulm et al. 2005). In this and
many other areas, relationships between coast and hinterland areas appear to have
Fig. 19.3 Dates from shell mound sites in northeast Australia (Ulm and Reid 2000)
Fig. 19.4 Typical shell midden scatter in central Queensland dominated by Donax deltoides
(Photograph: Sean Ulm)
452 S. Ulm
radically altered in the last few thousand years emphasising differences between
coastal and inland people (Hall 1999).
In the last 2000 years shell mounds emerged as a conspicuous feature of the
archaeological landscape across tropical northern Australia (Figs. 19.3 and 19.5).
Over 500 mounds occur on mangrove-lined estuaries in the Weipa area alone, with
the largest in excess of 12 m high, although most are less than 1 m (Bailey 1994).
Bailey (1999:106) estimated that the Weipa mounds contain 200,000 tonnes of shell
or ten billion individual shells. All mounds investigated in the southern Gulf of
Carpentaria (Robins et al. 1998), Weipa (Bailey 1999) and Princess Charlotte Bay
(Beaton 1985) are dominated by the cockle A. granosa, which comprises more than
95% of the shell weight, with lower representation of mangrove-associated gastro-
pods (Telescopium sp., Terebralia sp.) and bivalves (Polymesoda sp.) as well as
occasional fish and terrestrial animal bones and stone artefacts. For Princess
Charlotte Bay, Haberle and David ( 2004:172) link the appearance of shell mounds
to the emergence of new centralised consumption places with associated novel
foraging and disposal practices.
Bailey (1999) and Hiscock (2008; Hiscock and Faulkner 2006) convincingly
argued that changing environmental conditions impacting on the abundance of A.
granosa offer the most plausible explanation for the cessation of mound formation.
These explanations are less successful when generalised across all areas. Hiscock
(2008:274) argued that economies creating shell mounds ceased between 800 and
600 years ago as changing ecological conditions removed shorelines favourable to
abundant Anadara communities, with a shift to foraging strategies less focused on
the shore. He notes a single more recent exception on Cape York Peninsula.
However, a review of dates from Anadara shell mounds in northeast Australia
shows that mounds continued to be created in the last 500 years, with 16 sites from
Weipa, Princess Charlotte Bay and Mornington Island showing continuous mound
construction during this period, albeit at lower intensity than between 500 and
1,000 years ago (Fig. 19.3).
It could be that reduced mound-building in the last 500 years reflects changes in
economy impacting on centralised shellfish foraging, such as the more inland-
focused strategies suggested by Hiscock (2008). However, simply citing the persis-
tence of favourable Anadara habitats into the most recent period in these areas
cannot tell the whole story. As we have seen, mounds dominated by oyster rather
than Anadara were constructed at the Seven Mile Creek Mound around 4,000 BP
and at the Booral Shell Mound around 3,000 BP (Table 19.1), providing a precedent
for mounding behaviours evident at the later Anadara mounds. As Morrison (2003)
and McNiven and Feldman (2003) noted, mounding behaviours have a symbolic
dimension suggesting intergenerational transmission of “ritualised” knowledge
relating to mound-building and pointing to the importance of social factors in
addition to environmental parameters in structuring discard behaviours.
Stone-walled tidal fishtraps are another site type common across northeast
Australia, sometimes covering many kilometres of shoreline (Fig. 19.6). In the
southern Gulf of Carpentaria, fishtrap complexes on Bentinck Island occur on
average every 900 m along the shoreline (Memmott et al. 2008). Although none of
these structures anywhere in northeast Australia has been directly dated, adjacent
Fig. 19.5 Large shell mound at Weipa dominated by Anadara granosa, note person dwarfed in
foreground (Photograph: Michael Morrison)
Fig. 19.6 Stone-walled fish trap complex, Bentinck Island, southern Gulf of Carpentaria
(Photograph: Richard Robins)
shell midden deposits at several sites have returned late Holocene ages, indicating
that most if not all of the facilities can be assigned to this period (Fig. 19.7)
(Barham 2000; Bowen 1998; Frankland 1990).
Recent research across Torres Strait has revealed a distinctive series of cultural
changes from around 3,500 RCYBP (David et al. 2004), but it is not until after
454 S. Ulm
Fig. 19.7 Eroding shell midden in central Queensland (Photograph: Sean Ulm)
2,500 years ago that widespread occupation of the islands of Torres Strait occurs
in the form of numerous coastal middens, which Barham (2000) associates with
the origins of the distinctive marine-oriented societies observed among contempo-
rary Torres Strait Islander communities. Villages appear in the archaeological
record of Torres Strait around 700 RCYBP, which David and Weisler (2006) associ-
ate with the development of much more intensive engagement with the marine
environment, including the construction of ritual structures from large shellfish and
dugong remains (McNiven and Feldman 2003).
Discussion
What emerges from this overview is how little we actually know about coastal
foragers in northeast Australia. What we do know is based on a few well-studied
but widely separated archaeological sites. All the large-scale archaeological
projects undertaken along the coast have yielded evidence broadly consistent
with a model of ephemeral use of coastal resources from before the mid-Holocene
with patterns of dramatic change in the very late Holocene towards increased rates
of occupation. But how are we to understand these patterns? Some have sug-
gested that the patterns may simply be an artefact of preservation, with the record
skewed towards recent sites (e.g. Bird 1992; Rowland 1989). Others have focused
on environmental factors, particularly resource productivity and availability (e.g.
Bailey 1983; Beaton 1985; Morwood 1987; Rowland 1999; Walters 1989), or the
interplay of environmental and cultural factors (Haberle and David 2004).
Arguments have also been advanced associating the patterns with inferred changes
in social structure, especially trends towards socio-economic intensification,

perhaps including population growth (e.g. Barker 1996; Lourandos 1997), or
cultural responses to external contacts (David and Mura Badulgal 2006).
Our interpretations of marine resource use in northeast Australia must be
tempered by the large gaps in archaeological knowledge across the region, reflecting
the vast length of the coastline, the small number of archaeologists and the short
history of the discipline in Australia. Few coastal regions have even basic chro-
nologies. These problems are compounded by a poor understanding of how tapho-
nomic processes have impacted on the available sample. Sea-level fluctuations,
coastal erosion, cyclones, storm surges and coastal progradation have resulted in
differential destruction of the coastal archaeological record (e.g. Bird 1992;
Rowland 1989). Rowland (1989) has estimated that up to 12,000 cyclones may
have affected the northeast coast of Australia over the last 6000 years. Bird (1992)
has shown that just two cyclones in the late 1980s removed half of the documented
archaeological record from Upstart Bay in north Queensland. Taken together, this
evidence suggests a very recent origin for virtually all of the coastal landforms
where archaeological studies have been carried out, strongly biasing the known
archaeological record to the late Holocene.
Assessing the significance of late Holocene changes also depends on accurately
characterising the context in which these adaptations emerged. In northeast
Australia, understanding the use of coasts is limited by the few instances of direct
evidence for use of coastal resources prior to the late Holocene. Although there
probably was widespread occupation before this time, there is virtually no associ-
ated faunal material. All known Pleistocene and early Holocene sites in Australia
which exhibit use of coastal resources are located in rockshelters situated near
palaeoshorelines. For most of northeast Australia, where the continental shelf is
wide and gently sloping, it is therefore not surprising that archaeological evidence
is lacking for coastal occupation prior to mid-Holocene sea-level stabilisation. The
early representation of marine resources at Nara Inlet 1 is clearly a function of the
proximity of the site to the ocean for much of the Holocene, like much longer pat-
terns of marine use dating from the late Pleistocene in northwest Australia (Veth
et al. 2007), but we are still very far from understanding the nature of these early
economies. As many commentators have pointed out, virtually all of the evidence
for early coastal use before the Holocene was submerged by rising seas, and despite
the potential for underwater study, no serious attempts have been made to locate
inundated archaeological sites. The simplest explanation for the low number of
coastal sites dating to before the late Holocene is that the majority of extant coastal
landscapes only became available for occupation in this period. Like the Badu 15
research in Torres Strait discussed earlier, future research needs to identify land-
forms that have been present close to the sea throughout the Holocene. However, it
is salutary to note David et al.’s (2004) own observation that Badu 15 was the only
site discovered in the entire western Torres Strait area with the potential for deposits
older than the mid-Holocene. We can be more secure about evidence dating to the
late Holocene, where landforms containing archaeological deposits have been rela-
tively stable for the last few thousand years. In these contexts, the very recent trajectory
456 S. Ulm
towards localisation of resource use and low mobility settlement systems on the
coast can be related to long-term trajectories of change. Regional chronologies in
many areas suggest a lag between intermittent use of coastal resources in the mid-
Holocene and much later widespread intensive occupation. It is possible that
diminished predictability of coastal resources linked to fluctuations in marine pro-
ductivity induced by the final stages of marine transgression led to a reduction in
the use of coastal areas in favour of increased use of subcoastal areas, where coastal
resource suites formed a part of broad foraging strategies. Indeed, subcoastal occu-
pation only becomes archaeologically visible in southeast Queensland around the
terminal Pleistocene/early Holocene (Hall 1999). In some areas with low offshore
gradients, coastal resources may have only been reincorporated as an extension of
inland-focused economies in the late Holocene, after the end of major transgressive
fluctuations increased the predictability of resource abundance and distribution.
These changes did not take place in isolation, with evidence for increases in the
intensity of occupation of inland areas, perhaps linked to increases in population
density, from the mid-Holocene providing a context for changing use of adjacent
coasts (Haberle and David 2004; Lourandos 1997).
After 1,500 RCYBP, the coast progressively assumed a more important role in
regional mobility strategies. Excavations reveal rapid and widespread changes
in site content, an increasingly diversified subsistence resource base and patterns
of increase in site establishment and use from this time. These changes involve a
localisation of resource use and settlement towards a broad-based economy
focused on lower-ranked resources clustered around the shoreline. McNiven
(1999:157–158) usefully modelled these changes in the Great Sandy Region as
involving fissioning of social groups into smaller entities with “separate and
smaller territories”. The presence of large artefacts associated with plant-processing
hints at the importance of plants in these economies, but terrestrial animal bone is
rare in coastal deposits. In fact, very few terrestrial animals are documented in
coastal sites. This possibly reflects the coastal orientation of the activities that
produced these sites, but localisation of settlement may have put pressure on
terrestrial animal populations, particularly marsupials, which Walters (1992)
argued would have been quickly reduced through hunting by populations with
relatively low mobility.
It is uncertain how these recent changes are connected to the climate change
documented over this interval (Nunn et al. 2007). A period of high-frequency
ENSO events between c.2,500 and 1,000 RCYBP peaking at 1,300 RCYBP is
associated with more variable climate, including periods of aridity (Gagan et al.
2004; Shulmeister 1999). This interval coincides with widespread reductions in
occupation across southeast Queensland (McNiven 1992; Ulm 2006). Climate
ameliorated in the last 1,000 years, with wetter conditions prevailing (Harrison
and Dodson 1993). The alterations in occupation patterns and broadening of
coastal resource use in the last 1,500 years may have been in part a response to
more variable conditions, much like the reorganisation of settlement-subsistence
systems thought to have taken place during the last glacial maximum (Hiscock
2008:81).
Conclusion
Data available for many regions of northeast Australia show that major changes
took place in coastal economies since the mid-Holocene towards increased site
occupation, intensity of site use, and localisation of resource use which cannot be
simply related to taphonomic or sampling factors. Despite 40 years of systematic
archaeological investigations on northeast Australian coasts, however, the anteced-
ents of the complex systems recorded ethnohistorically and documented histori-
cally for the recent past remain poorly understood. An understanding of the
developmental processes giving rise to these late prehistoric systems will require
interdisciplinary research focused on the location of early-to-mid-Holocene coastal
archaeological deposits and the characterisation of the distribution and abundance
of marine resources throughout the Holocene.
The main obstacle to advancing our understanding of variability and change in
coastal economies in northeast Australia is that the large areas have seen no archae-
ological or geomorphological research, many areas have had only limited attention
and there are few detailed studies of the archaeological assemblages that have been
excavated. The intensive systematic studies conducted in western Torres Strait,
central Queensland and southeast Queensland show the enormous opportunities
afforded by such an integrated approaches.
Acknowledgements Thanks to the editors for the invitation to contribute to this volume and to
Mike Rowland, Bryce Barker, Jay Hall, Ian Lilley, Annie Ross, Ian McNiven, Dan Rosendahl,
Richard Robins, Jill Reid, Deborah Brian, Pat Faulkner and Deb Vale for long and sometimes
passionate discussions about coastal occupation in northeast Australia. Many thanks to Michael
Morrison and Richard Robins for providing photographs. Iain Davidson, Mike Rowland, Nuno
Bicho, Annie Ross and Patrick Faulkner graciously provided comments on manuscript drafts. This
research was supported under the Australian Research Council’s Discovery Projects funding
scheme (project number DP0663047).
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Rowland, M.J. 1982. Further radiocarbon dates from the Keppel Islands. Australian Archaeology
15: 43–8.
Rowland, M.J. 1985. Further radiocarbon dates from Mazie Bay, North Keppel Island. Australian
Rowland, M.J. 1989. Population increase, intensification or a result of preservation?
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Rowland, M.J. 1996. Prehistoric archaeology of the Great Barrier Reef Province – retrospect and
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1995 Australian Archaeological Association annual conference: 45-62. St Lucia: Anthropology
Museum, University of Queensland.
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Archaeological Research 12: 1–129.
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for pre-2000 BP fishing from three sites on the southern Curtis Coast, in S. Ulm and I. Lilley
(eds) An archaeological life: papers in honour of Jay Hall: 161–76. Brisbane: Aboriginal and
Torres Strait Islander Studies Unit, University of Queensland.
Ulm, S., S. Cotter, M. Cotter, I. Lilley, C. Clarkson and J. Reid 2005. Edge-ground hatchets on the
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Chapter 20
The Role of Marine Resources in the Diet
of Pre-Colonial Aboriginal People and Land
Use Patterns Around Port Jackson, Sydney,
New South Wales, Australia
Val Attenbrow
Introduction
At the time of British colonisation in January 1788, numerous related clans each
associated with specific tracts of land and belonging to several language groups lived
in the Sydney region. They were mobile fishers, hunters and gatherers and the foods
they ate, raw materials used and how they obtained them differed according to the
environment in which they lived – whether along the coast or in the coastal hinterland
(Attenbrow 2010b). In this paper I discuss the use of marine resources by people liv-
ing adjacent to the ocean and estuarine shorelines – particularly those living around
the shores of Port Jackson. Marine products were also used as raw materials for tools
and weapons, but my discussions are restricted to their use as items of food.
Early colonial records describe the principal subsistence activity of the coastal
people as fishing, though it is clear from both the historical and archaeological
records that the range of foods eaten was much wider. Even so, the historical
descriptions provide no clear indication of the specific resources that were com-
monly part of the diet, or how the nature of the subsistence activities varied in
different parts of the estuary and adjacent coastline. The archaeological record
provides a different set of data, and a more comprehensive picture of the use of
marine resources by Aboriginal people living in coastal Sydney is gained by
examining both the historical and archaeological sources.
Sydney has a long history of archaeological investigations and, despite more
than 200 years of urban development which has destroyed and disturbed many sites,
it still has a rich extant suite of archaeological sites (Attenbrow 1991, 1992b, 2010b).
Archaeological excavations have identified Aboriginal sites with occupational his-
tories extending back some 20000 years in the wider Sydney region (Nanson et al.
V. Attenbrow (*)
Australian Museum, Sydney, NSW, Australia
464 V. Attenbrow
1987:76; Stockton 2009). However, I focus on marine resource use during the last
4000 years, and explanations for the observed spatial variations in Port Jackson
(Sydney Harbour). The historical sources cited are publications and other docu-
ments written during the early colonial period from 1770 to 1820, principally by
officers of the First Fleet who arrived in 1788. The archaeological evidence comes
principally from excavated sites around Port Jackson, but reference is also made to
sites along the adjacent ocean coast and estuaries (Fig. 20.1).
Sydney Aboriginal middens include a range of cultural materials – shell which
forms the dominant component, as well as flaked and ground stone tools, shell and
Fig. 20.1 Location of excavated Sydney region Aboriginal sites referred to in text

20 The Role of Marine Resources in the Diet of Pre-Colonial Aboriginal People 465
bone artefacts tools, animal bones and charcoal from hearth fires, as well as human
burials (Attenbrow 1991:Table 3, 2010b). Excavated faunal assemblages provide
evidence for the families and species of fish caught and shellfish gathered, as well
as marine mammals and reptiles that were part of the diet. In the sandstone environ-
ment of coastal Sydney, however, such organic remains rarely survive in levels
older than 4000 years. The biases that are introduced by preservational factors are
pointed out where relevant in the discussions below. Nonetheless, for this 4000 year
period the Port Jackson middens provide evidence that the use of marine resources
varied in different parts of the estuary. The archaeological record suggests that
while shellfishing was carried out in all parts of the estuary, fishing was focused
principally around the estuary mouth.
Port Jackson
The Sydney coastline is dominated by spectacular sandstone clifflines up to 80 m

high, broken only by the mouths of the deep and extensive estuaries of Port
Jackson, Broken Bay, Botany Bay and Port Hacking. The Hawkesbury sandstone
forming the clifflines is part of the dissected Hornsby plateau. The estuaries are
drowned river valleys (rias) and estuarine conditions generally extend inland about
30 km from the coastline (Fig. 20.1). Port Jackson, also known as Sydney Harbour,
is one of the largest estuaries along the NSW coast and, with its tributaries and
bays, has an area of 45 km2 and a shoreline of approximately 240 km (Stockton
1977:25). Along the estuarine reaches of the tributary rivers, the foreshores are a
complex of alternating cliffs, small bays and inlets with sandy beaches, tidal mud-
flats with mangroves, intertidal rock platforms, and rocky/bouldery areas. In many
parts, high sandstone cliffs drop straight down into the water. Elsewhere the land
adjacent to the shore varies from steep forested ridgesides with sandstone cliffs and
outcrops to gentle slopes where the Wianamatta shales occur in the western parts
of the catchment. The large sheltered estuarine waters of Port Jackson and its tribu-
taries provide a wide range and abundance of marine resources. The land adjacent
to Port Jackson, which was principally timbered country with areas of open forest,
woodland, heath, swamps and mangrove communities (Benson and Howell 1990),
supported a wide diversity of land animals.
Available Resources and Early Colonial Historical Record
Marine Resources: Their Availability and Aboriginal

Use in the Early Colonial Period
The diet of people living in coastal Sydney included a wide range of marine
resources – fish, shellfish, crustaceans such as crabs and crayfish, marine mammals
such as seals and whales, and turtles – as well as land mammals, birds, reptiles
466 V. Attenbrow
and plant foods. Marine resources played an important part in the diet of the people
living along the coast and estuaries. Around Port Jackson and Botany Bay, fish and
shellfish were the food items most often noted by Captain Cook and Joseph Banks
in 1770 and by the British colonists in the first years of the colony. Scenes of, or
including, people fishing are commonly depicted in the early colonial images of
Aboriginal people (e.g. Figs. 20.2 and 20.3).
Men are described or depicted as fishing with multi-pronged spears usually from
the rock platforms and in shallow waters whereas the women fished from bark
canoes using lines with shell fish-hooks. In Australia, this gendered division in fishing
practices existed only along the South and Central NSW Coastline (Bowdler 1976;
Attenbrow 2010a, b).
Fishing is often described as the main food source of those living along the
coast. At one stage, the Judge Advocate Captain David Collins (1798[1975:456])
wrote that “[t]hose who live on the sea-coast depend entirely on fish for their
sustenance”. However, his comment obviously overstates the case, and Lieutenant
William Bradley (1786–92[1969]:133) puts Collin’s statement into a broader
context (see later), as does marine Captain-Lieutenant Watkin Tench who wrote:
[they]…wholly depend for food on the few fruits they gather; the roots they dig up in the
swamps; and the fish they pick up along shore, or contrive to strike from their canoes with
spears. Fishing, indeed, seems to engross nearly the whole of their time, probably from its
forming the chief part of a subsistence … (Tench 1789:80–81[1979:48])
Men were observed collecting or carrying shellfish on several occasions, but interest-
ingly there are no reports of women collecting shellfish (Attenbrow 2010b:82–83).
Fish and Fishing
At least 581 fish species, representing 143 families inhabit Port Jackson (Henry
1984:4, 42; Paxton and Collett 1975), though a great many are small in size or
limited in abundance and are unlikely to have been of dietary importance to
Aboriginal people. The upper reaches of the estuary, which have lower salinity
levels and lower habitat diversity, have a lesser number of fish species than the
estuary mouth (Paxton and Collett 1975:3–4).
In 1788, Port Jackson was described as being well stocked with a variety of fish:
“Jewfish, Snapper, Mullet, Mackrel [sic], Whiting, Dory, Rock Cod, leather jackets
[sic] & various others” (Bradley 1786–92[1969]:132). Tench described the range of
fish as being “from a whale to a gudgeon”, mentioning “sharks of a monstrous size,
skait [sic], rock-cod, grey-mullet, bream, horse-mackarel [sic], now and then a sole
and john-dory and innumerable others unknown in Europe” as well as bass, leath-
erjacket and snapper (Tench 1789:128–129, 1793:176[1979:69, 272]).
Although the British colonists mentioned the names of many fish that inha-
bited the estuaries, and recorded the local Aboriginal names for many different
species (Attenbrow 2010b:63–64), they seldom identified the particular fish spe-
cies that they saw the local inhabitants catching or eating. There are only rare
references to bream and mullet, shark and stingray (Collins 1798[1975:137];
20 The Role of Marine Resources in the Diet of Pre-Colonial Aboriginal People
Fig. 20.2 Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle-Galles due Sud. Grottes, chasse et pèche des sauvages du Port Jackson [New Holland: New South Wales: Cave, hunting and
fishing by the people of Port Jackson], from Peron and de Freycinet (1824:Plate 31). Reproduced with permission of the Australian Museum Research Library
467
468 V. Attenbrow
Fig. 20.3 Aborigines fishing, cooking and eating in canoes. Watercolour by unknown artist but
often attributed to Philip Gidley King (the elder), undated, though probably 1788–92. Reproduced
with permission of the Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales
Tench 1793:195–196[1979:287, 288]). Although there were great numbers of sting-

ray and shark in Port Jackson and Botany Bay, it was initially reported that they were
not eaten (Bradley 1786–92[1969]:132; Collins 1798[1975:455]). However, in winter
1788, it was noted that: “These people last summer would neither eat shark nor sting-
ray; but the scarcity of fish in the winter, I believe obliges them to eat anything that
affords the smallest nourishment” (Phillip 28 September 1788 [1892:192]). This com-
ment implies they were eaten, at least in winter.
Shellfish and Shellfishing
Rock platforms, estuarine mud flats with mangroves, and sandy beaches around
foreshores of Port Jackson provide habitats for a relatively large number and variety
of edible shellfish. Each of these environments has a different although often over-
lapping range of species, and because of the diverse nature of the shoreline, many
species are available within a very short distance of most locations around the
estuary. Over 2000 shellfish species have been recorded in Port Jackson but, as with
fish, the greater proportion of these species are very small (<15 mm maximum
dimension) and not of dietary importance to humans. In the lower estuary, because
of Port Jackson’s broad mouth (1.5 km wide), many ocean shellfish species also
inhabit the shorelines there and the range of species is much greater than in the
mid- and upper estuary.
In 1788, Bradley described Port Jackson as having “a great quantity of shellfish

in the Coves that have Mudflats at the bottom”, and recorded that “[w]e found vast
quantities of Oysters & other shellfish in the Harbour & Oysters of an amazing size
in the uppermost Coves” (Bradley 1786–92[1969]:79–80, 133). These large oysters
would have been mud oysters (Ostrea angasi) and not rock oysters (Saccostrea
glomerata).
There are few accounts of shellfishing, though people were observed collecting
shellfish from the rocks and out of the sand and mud in shallow water, diving for
them in deeper waters, as well as cooking and eating them; shellfish were also
recorded scattered around their huts (e.g. Bradley 1786–92[1969]:75, 76, 113;
Clark 1788 in Fidlon and Ryan 1981:109–110, 267; Hunter 1793[1968]:63–65;
Phillip 15 May 1788[1892:132–135]; Tench 1793:195[1979:287]; Worgan
1788[1978:16]). The only shellfish named in the historical accounts are oyster,
cockle, “muscle” (mussel) and limpet. They also refer to “a large worm called
Cahbro” (Collins 1798[1975:462]) which is Teredo, a shellfish that inhabits rotten
wood in the upper reaches of estuaries. It is likely that the names given by the
British observers do not reflect all the shellfish species they actually saw and that
the authors were using the terms “cockle” or “mussel” generically.
Other Marine Animals
No marine mammals are permanent inhabitants of Port Jackson, though whales,

seals, and dolphins are regular visitors – more often in winter (June to October) and
more often on the open coast than inside the estuaries. Dugongs (Dugong dugon)
are rare visitors to Sydney. Southern Right whales (Eubalaena glacialis) breed off
the NSW Central Coast during September–October. Humpback whales (Megaptera
novaeanglaise) migrate North from the Antarctic seas in winter to breed, and in
spring move South to feed in the Antarctic. Whales and dolphins (Fam. Dolphinidae)
sometimes become beached or stranded on the shores, especially after storms
(Linda Gibson, 1999, personal communication). Recent documented whale beach-
ings indicate such events occur relatively frequently. In the past, the Australian
fur-seal (Arctocephalus pusillus doriferus) inhabited the NSW Central Coast, and
today Southern Elephant Seal (Mirounga leonina) and Leopard Seal (Hydrurga
leptonyx) are infrequent visitors to the Sydney region (Shaughnessy 1999:45).
Turtles, such as Green (Chelonia mydas), Leatherback (Dermochelys coriacea)
and Loggerhead (Caretta caretta), are uncommon visitors (Dr Alan Greer, 1999,
personal communication).
Common crustaceans in Port Jackson include crabs (blue swimmers Portunus
pelagicus, mud crabs Scylla serrata), spiny lobsters or sea-crayfish (Jasus verreauxi),
prawns (Eastern King Prawn Penaeus plebejus, Eastern School Prawn Metapenaeus
macleayi) and rock barnacles such as the large purple “plated” (Austrobalanus
imperator) (Dakin 1973:165, 182, 202).
There are no historical reports of seals, turtles, or dugongs being hunted in the
Sydney region, though seal hunting was recorded along the NSW South Coast
470 V. Attenbrow
(Lawrence 1968:145). However, the historical records indicate that beached whales
were eaten and provided opportunities for large numbers of people to gather and
feast. People no doubt anticipated their arrival in winter and kept watch, being
prepared for the eventuality so that large gatherings could take place. Such events
occurred near Botany Bay in August 1788 and at Manly Cove in July 1790 (Bradley
1786–92[1969]:120, 135; Collins 1798[1975:109]). On the latter occasion flesh was
still being taken from the carcass in September, despite its decomposing condition:
September, 1790. On the 7th instant, captain Nepean, of the New South Wales corps, and
Mr White, accompanied by little Nanbaree, and a party of men, went in a boat to Manly
Cove, intending to land there, and walk on to Broken Bay. On drawing near the shore, a
dead whale, in the most disgusting state of putrefaction, was seen lying on the beach,
and at least two hundred Indians surrounding it, broiling the flesh on different fires, and
feasting on it with the most extravagant marks of greediness and rapture. (Tench
1793:54[1979:176]).
Lobsters and “craw-fish” were caught in “small hoop nets” in Port Jackson (e.g.
Phillip 15 May 1788[1892:132]), but there is no mention of prawns or crabs being
caught or eaten.
Land Resources: Their Availability and Aboriginal

Use in the Early Colonial Period
The Sydney region is inhabited by a large number of land mammals, birds, reptiles
and amphibians, as well as numerous plants that have edible parts. Kangaroos,
wallabies, possums, koalas, bandicoots, dingoes, wombats, echidnas, fruit bats
(“flying foxes”, Pteropus poliocephalus and P. scapulatus) and other smaller mam-
mals such as native rats and mice, were amongst the land animals that inhabited the
region. Most Australian land mammals are not migratory and therefore their
seasonal availability and abundance do not vary markedly.
There are numerous species of terrestrial birds – the largest being emu, brush
turkey, and lyre bird – as well as a range of water birds such as swans, ducks, and
penguins (Hoskin et al. 1991; Roberts 1993). Some birds are migratory, particularly
water birds such as the shearwater or mutton bird (Puffinus teniurostris). Among
the reptiles, there are snakes (including pythons), lizards and tortoises. Goannas
(monitor Varanus rosenbergi) are the largest of the lizards in the Sydney region in
terms of body weight.
Sydney vegetation communities include over 200 plant species which have
edible parts, such as seeds, berries, fruits, tubers/roots/rhizomes [yams and fern-
roots], leaves, flowers, nectar and honey, as well as Macrozamia kernels which
require special processing to remove the toxins. Studies of food plants in the NSW
South and Central Coasts indicate that a greater range of edible plant foods is avail-
able in summer, spring and autumn than in winter (Poiner 1976; Vinnicombe
1980:Part VI). Tubers and roots are available all year round, though the nutrients in
them vary considerably seasonally.
There are very few historical records of hunting and/or eating land animals and
birds and collecting plant foods in the Sydney region – far fewer than those of fish-
ing. Several early writers did, however, mention that other animals beside fish and
shellfish were eaten by the people around Port Jackson; for example, Hunter
(1793[1968]:60–61) and Tench (1789:88[1979:51]) as well as Bradley, who wrote
in October 1788:
For a considerable time after our arrival it was supposed that the food of the Natives
was entirely Fish, but the winter convinced us, that if they had not had some other
resource great numbers of them must perish, as it is they are very hard put to it when the
Fish is scarce; ..... There is no doubt but they lay wait for the Kanguroo [sic] & Birds, many
of the trees are notch’d that has not had a Canoe taken from them from which I suppose
they get into these Trees to seek or wait for any thing that may come in their way (Bradley
1786–92[1969]:110, 133–134).
Kangaroos, wallabies, possums, gliders, fruit bats (“flying foxes”) and

k angaroo-rats were recorded as being eaten. Only among the hinterland groups
were dingos, koalas and wombats noted as food items. Tench reported that “they
esteem lizards, guanas [sic, goannas], and many other reptiles, delicious fare”, but
it was only “[w]hen prevented by tempestuous weather, or any other cause, from
fishing” that “particular reptiles” were hunted (Tench 1793:177, 195[1979:273,
287]). Hunter (1793[1968]:469) reported that it was in winter and early spring,
particularly during dry weather, that the men resorted to burning the grass to catch
rats and other animals, while the women continued to fish.
The only types of bird reported as eaten were crows and hawks (Collins
1798[1975:455]), and “parrots and parroquets [sic]” (Sir John Franklin in Ross
1976:25), but as with fish and shellfish the number of species is probably under-
reported.
The same can be said about plant foods, and the contribution that each of the
more than 200 plant species made to the diet in different parts of the Sydney region
is not known. There are few reports of plant collecting and the historical evidence
for the plant species eaten suffers from the fact that the Australian plants were new
to botanist Sir Joseph Banks who came with Captain Cook in 1770 and none of First
Fleet colonists were botanists. Most early accounts are not detailed enough to iden-
tify the specific plant species, simply using names such as the “cherry”, “fruits”,
“berries”, “currants”, “a nut which had violent effects on those who ate it unpre-
pared”, “wild fig”, “orchis” roots, and “fern-roots” (Attenbrow 2010b:40–42).
Summary of Historical Observations
The foregoing outlines the abundant marine and terrestrial food resources that were
available in and around Port Jackson. The historical accounts suggest that marine
resources, especially fish, played a major part of the diet of the pre-colonial people
who lived around the shores of Port Jackson, but that land animals and plant foods
were also part of the diet. It is unlikely, however, that the British colonists saw all
472 V. Attenbrow
of the plants and animals that were caught, gathered and eaten by the Aboriginal
people of Port Jackson and it is obvious that the historical records dating to between
1770 and 1820 provide an incomplete account of their diet.
Archaeological Evidence
Despite the large number of shell middens recorded around the estuarine shores of
Port Jackson (at least 335), animal bones discarded during Aboriginal use of the
sites have been recorded at relatively few (<18%) (Attenbrow 1991). This is partly
because of the difficulty of seeing the bleached bones among the more abundant
faded shells, until excavated. Even so, in some excavated middens, animal bones
form only a minor component of the cultural materials, or are not present at all.
Numerous sites have been excavated around Port Jackson (Attenbrow 1991,
2010b:5–8). However, quantitative data about the faunal assemblages that is suit-
able for comparative studies is available for only a few sites. In addition, prior to
the 1960s retrieval methods were unsystematic and only large pieces of bone were
saved. Because of these shortcomings, the following discussions focus on a few
relatively recently excavated shell middens.
All radiocarbon ages cited have been calibrated to calendar years using Calib
5.0.1, with southern hemisphere offset for charcoal samples and a delta R value of
3 ± 69 for shell samples (Hughen et al. 2004; McCormac et al. 2004; Ulm 2006).
Archaeological Evidence for Aboriginal Use of Marine Resources
Fishing
The principal archaeological evidence for the fish species caught or eaten in Port
Jackson comes from two excavated middens near the mouth of the estuary – at
Vaucluse and Balmoral Beach (Fig. 20.1). The faunal assemblage in the former dates
back almost 1300 years(Attenbrow and Steele 1995:Tables 1 and 3), and in the latter
to between ~2730 and ~3280 years ago (Attenbrow 1993:Table 2; the upper part of
Balmoral Beach midden was removed during roadworks in the 1960s).
A third large Sydney region faunal assemblage dating from ~2000 years ago comes
from Angophora Reserve on Barrenjoey peninsula (Wood 1992; McDonald 1992).
Other comparative faunal assemblages come from Royal National Park (Glover
1974:Table 7; Megaw 1968a; Megaw and Roberts 1974:Table 4; Tracey
1974:Tables 2, 4 and 6) and Kurnell Peninsula (Brayshaw et al. 1992:Table 4.1.1;
Dallas 2005; Dallas et al. 2001; Megaw 1968b).
A large number of fish taxa has been identified in excavated Port Jackson assem-
blages (Table 20.1). Snapper (Pagrus auratus) and yellowfin bream (Acanthopagrus
australis) dominate the identified component of these fish assemblages, with
Table 20.1 Identified fishes from selected excavated Sydney region Aboriginal archaeological sites (see text for sources)
Broken Port Jackson Middle and
Bay Port Jackson Lower Estuary Upper Estuary
Woollahra,
Milk McCue
Vaucluse Beach 4, Balls Royal NP/ Midden
Genus and Angophora Balmoral (Mt Collins Head, Sugarloaf, Kurnell (Kurnell
Family species Common name Reserve Beach Trefle) Cave C’land St Cammeray Peninsula Peninsula)
Arripididae Arripus trutta Eastern Australian ♦
Salmon
Carangidae Seriola lalandi Yellowtail Kingfish ♦ ♦ [cc]
Carangidae Pseudocaranx Silver or White ♦ ♦ [cc]
dentex Trevally
Cheilodactylidae Nemadactylus Grey ♦ ♦ [cc]
douglasii Morwong
Cheilodactylidae N. macropterus Jackass Fish ♦ ♦ [cc]
Cheilodactylidae Nemadactylus Morwong/ ♦
spp. Jackass
Elasmobranch Carcharias Greynurse ♦
taurus Shark
Elasmobranch Unidentified Shark/Ray/ ♦
Skate
Elasmobranch Unidentified Shark ♦ ♦ ♦
Girellidae Girella Luderick/Blackfish ♦
tricuspidata
Girellidae Girella sp. Luderick/Blackfish ♦ ♦ ♦
Hemiramp hidae Hemiramphid Garfish ♦
unidentified
Labridae Achoerodus viridis Eastern Blue Groper ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
(continued)
Broken Port Jackson Middle
Bay Port Jackson Lower Estuary and Upper Estuary
Woollahra,
Milk McCue
Vaucluse Beach 4, Balls Royal NP/ Midden
Genus and Angophora Balmoral (Mt Collins Head, Sugarloaf, Kurnell (Kurnell
Family species Common name Reserve Beach Trefle) Cave C’land St Cammeray Peninsula Peninsula)
Labridae Labrid unidentified Parrotfish/Wrasse ♦ ♦ ♦ [cam] ♦
Labridae Pseudolabrus Crimson-banded ♦
gymnogenis Wrasse
Labridae P. tetricus Blue-throated ♦ ♦
Wrasse
Labridae Pseudolabrus Wrasse ♦ ♦ [cc] ♦
spp.
Latridae Latris lineata Striped ♦
Trumpeter
Lutjanidae Lutjanid ♦
unidentified
Monacanthidae Meuschenia sp. Leatherjacket ♦
Monacanthidae Monacanthid Leatherjacket ♦ ♦ ♦ [cc] ♦ [bh] ♦ ♦♦
unidentified
Moridae Lotella rhacina Rock cod/ ♦ [cc]
Beardie
Mugilidae Mugil cephalus Sea Mullet ♦
Odacidae Odacid Weed Whiting ♦
unidentified
Platycephalidae Neoplatycephalus Tiger Flathead ♦
richardsoni
Platycephalidae Platycephalid Flathead ♦ ♦ ♦
unidentified
Platycephalidae Platycephalus Dusky Flathead ♦ ♦ ♦ [w]
fuscus ♦ [cc]
Pleuronectidae Ammotretis sp. Flounder ♦
Plotosidae cf. Cnidoglanis Eel-tailed ♦
macrocephalus Catfish
Pomatomidae Pomatomus Tailor ♦ [cc]
saltatrix
Sciaenidae Argyrosomus Mulloway ♦ ♦ ♦ [w] ♦
japonicus ♦ [cc]
Serranidae Acanthistius Eastern Wirrah ♦
ocellatus
Serranidae Epinephelus sp. Rock Cod ♦ ♦ ♦
Sillaginidae Sillago ciliata Sand Whiting ♦ ♦
Sillaginidae Sillago sp. Whiting ♦
Sparidae Acanthopagrus Yellowfin ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ [w] ♦
australis Bream, E Black ♦ [cc]
Bream
Sparidae Acanthopagrus sp. Bream ♦ ♦ [mb] ♦ [bh] ♦ ♦
Sparidae Pagrus auratus Snapper ♦♦ ♦♦ ♦♦ ♦♦ [w] ♦ [cs] ♦ [cam] ♦ ♦♦
♦ [mb] ♦ [sug]
♦♦ [cc]
Sparidae Rhabdosargus Tarwhine ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
sarba Eel unidentified ♦
Scientific names updated according to Hutchins and Swainston (1986) and The Australian Museum Ichthyology Department. Initials in data columns refer to sites
listed in heading
♦ Present at site; ♦♦ most abundant taxa recovered from site
476 V. Attenbrow
leatherjacket (Monacanthidae) and wrasse (Labridae) common elements. Snapper

and bream are also the commonest species in excavated sites along other parts of
the NSW South and Central Coast (Vinnicombe 1980:Part V, 3).
The identification of shark remains from middens on Kurnell Peninsula (Dallas
2005:139, 141, Table 5.13) and Balmoral Beach (Walshe 1995:Appendix 3, 14–15)
gives some support to Phillip’s comment that shark was eaten at some times, though
it is possible the bones at Balmoral Beach may represent body ornaments or dingo
scavenging refuse. However, the limited amount of shark bone recovered (a few
vertebrae and teeth from Balmoral Beach and a tooth and several denticles from
McCue Midden) may be due to preservational factors. Apart from their teeth,
spines, dermal denticles and vertebral centra, sharks have a cartilaginous skeletal
structure which is unlikely to survive for long in archaeological deposits (Rick et al.
2002:111, 113).
Shellfishing
The rich archaeological evidence for shellfishing contrasts strongly with the limited
observations of shellfish collecting in the historical records. The most visible
archaeological sites around the estuarine shores of Port Jackson today are hundreds
of shell middens (Attenbrow 1991, 2010b:Plate 12).
In the Sydney region, the oldest evidence for shellfishing is in a rockshelter at
Cammeray on the northern side of Port Jackson (Attenbrow 1995:26–29). It is
around 6250 years old. Shell-bearing layers in most other radiocarbon-dated
deposits are less than 4000 years old, and most are less than 2000 years old
(Tables 20.2 and 20.3). The young age for most shell-bearing deposits principally
reflects the poor conditions for preservation in the Sydney region sandstone envi-
ronment and to the recent age of many shell middens. It is not simply because of
the late appearance of shellfishing, or the increased use of shell resources, or neces-
sarily increasing population numbers. Middens that formed immediately adjacent
to shorelines between 7000 and 2000 years ago also may have been destroyed or
partially destroyed by sea levels that were 0.3–1.0 m higher than present between
4800 and 4500 years ago, and again between 3000 and 2700 years ago (Haworth
et al. 2004; Lewis et al. 2007).
Up to 50 shellfish taxa have been recorded in excavated Port Jackson middens
(Attenbrow 1992b:Table 3), though not all can be considered food sources; many
were small (<10–15 mm) and were probably not important, if at all, dietary items. For
example: many small species may have come inadvertently into middens by “piggy-
backing” on larger shellfish; shells of some small species may have been used for
necklaces or other body decorations (Irish 2007). In addition, some shells, particu-
larly of Sydney cockles or mussels, may have been left after the meat was extracted
for use as fishing bait (Collins 1798[1975:461]; Tench 1793:194[1979:286]).
Shells in the middens indicate that the diet of the local inhabitants included a
large number of different shellfish, but only a few species were commonly eaten;
many species are a minor component or not present at all sites. The species caught
in different parts of the estuary are discussed below.
Marine Mammals and Reptiles
There is very little archaeological evidence for the use of marine mammals and
reptiles in the Sydney region. Whale bone has been found in very few sites, e.g.
Curracurrang 1 in Royal National Park (Megaw 1968a:326), which is hardly
surprising given large size of most of their bones. The only other archaeological
evidence for the use of marine mammals in the Sydney region are several dugong
bones found in apparent association with ground-edged hatchet heads at Sheas
Creek, south Sydney. Cut marks and scars on the bones suggest the animal was
butchered and killed for food (Etheridge 1905:18; Etheridge et al. 1896). These
bones have recently been dated to ~6000 years old (Haworth et al. 2004).
Seal bones have been identified from only one site in Port Jackson, Balmoral
Beach (Walshe 1995) but, along with dolphin bones, have been found more often
in middens along the ocean coastline in Royal National Park and Kurnell Peninsula
as well as Angophora Reserve (Brayshaw et al. 1992:Table 4.1.1; Dallas
2005:Table 5.14; Megaw 1968a:326, 1968b:18; Glover 1974:Table 7; Megaw and
Roberts 1974:8; Tracey 1974:Table 2; Wood 1992:Table 6). The seal bone recov-
ered from these sites indicates that these animals were eaten in the Sydney region,
so it is probable that they were hunted here as observed further south, despite the
lack of historical observations. The relatively small amounts of seal bone recovered
in the excavations, however, suggest it was either not a major food item, or that they
were butchered and/or eaten away from campsites.
Similarly, while there are no observations by the first British colonists of the
capture of marine turtles or their use as food in the Sydney region, several bone
fragments from Balmoral Beach have been identified as turtle. So, turtles may well
have been captured when they entered the estuary.
Crustaceans
Exo-skeleton fragments from crustaceans have been identified in several middens,

but the amounts recovered are very small (Attenbrow 2010b:69). However, crusta-
ceans have very fragile exo-skeletons and usually only the thicker parts such as
claws survive both the poor preservation conditions of the Sydney region and exca-
vation processes. Crabs and lobsters are probably under-represented in excavated
coastal middens.
Barnacles form a small but common part of excavated faunal assemblages, but
the Sydney region species are small, and most, if not all, probably came into the
middens unintentionally attached to shellfish species which were collected to be
eaten or used.
Table 20.2 Details of excavated Port Jackson Aboriginal shell middens and analysed faunal samples
Age of
earliest shell
deposits (cal
years BP 2
Depth (cm) sigma –
Site name of shell in Weight Table 20.3
and excavated Estimated excavated Weight of Weight of marine Uniden has conven Number
square used for area Excavated area/ pit excavated Weight of of all animal animals Weight of land tified bone tional ages of stone
analysis of midden (m) sample (cm) or column deposit (kg) shell (g) bone (g or n) (g or n) animals (g or n) (g) BP) artefacts
Lower estuary sites
Balmoral Beach 20 × >8 50 × 50 cm 65 203.6 13,139.9 733.05 g 366.33 g 152.53 g 214.19 g ~3500 1,532
Square M6 Levels
1 to 21 (Attenbrow
1994:18–19, 1995)
Mt Trefle, 20 × 13 50 × 100 cm 15 (inside) 603.0 5,102.2 370.83 g 132.66 g 88.0 g 150.13 g 1093–1474 1,506
Vaucluse (inside)
(Attenbrow 100 × 100 cm 70 (outside) 926–1175
1992a) (outside)
Milk Beach 4, 8 × 3 20 × 20 cm and 50 and 35 Not >1,650 n = 146 + numerous n = 136 + numerous n = 10 + fragments 0 Not dated 1
Vaucluse 20 × 20 cm reported [8 mm sieve fragments fragments Possible
(Rich 1984) only]
Reef Beach 12 × 2 Irregular shape 80 Not Not provided At least 806.96 g Not separated 522–914 66
(O’Donnell and ~4 m2 recorded
Walker 1982;
Attenbrow and
Bow 2002)
Middle and upper estuary sites
Abbotsford –Bulk >6.0 × 5 Not reported 100 24,494.1 9,428.85 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 Not dated 2
Upper/Ashy/Basal
Layers (Kenny
1987)
Balls Head 14 × 7 300 × 120 cm 100 Not Not provided Not provided 1 Bream tooth and 1 Macropod tooth 3 Not dated 450
(Bowdler 1971) and recorded 1 leatherjacket Fragments
180 × 120 cm dorsal spine
[analysed shell
from column
15 × 25.5]
Bantry Bay 15 × 4.5 100 × 100 cm 29 Not 36,440.2 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 4388–5029 15
BanB/3, Squares and recorded
A and B (Specht 100 × 80 cm
1976)
Berry Island 3 4.0 × 1.5 5 m2 50 Not 11,337.2 Only a few animal Not recorded Not recorded 964–1149 5
(Jo Macdonald provided bone fragments
CHM 2000)
Cammeray G9 56–35 × 11 50 × 50 (G9) 45 124.3 21,516.6 22.65 g 19.25 g 3.4 g 0.0 2146–2618 127
(Attenbrow
1994:26–27,
1995:Table 10)
Castle Cove 16 × 4 15–20 73.5 10.4 4,014.4 0 0 0 0 1016–1351 0
SSM.22563 wide × 6–14
Column F
(Attenbrow
et al. 1997)
Cumberland 57 × 51 57 × 51 6 16.7 1,099.0 3.9 g 332–642 0
Street (Attenbrow
1992b)
Sugarloaf J3East 12 × 1.5 25 × 25 cm 34 23.9 5,218.8 7.8 g 7.1 g 0.7 g 0.0 g 4139–4368 33
(Attenbrow
1995;Walshe
1995)
Table 20.3 Details of radiocarbon ages for excavated Port Jackson Aboriginal shell middens referred to in text.
Conventional CalBP Med
Depth of C14 age and Cal age 2 Probability Aquatic zone [site
Sample sample standard sigma [Calib [Calib location O = open;
Site name provenance (cm) Lab No. deviation 5.0.1] 5.0.1] Material Rsh = rockshelter] Comments References
Angophora Square 10D; 40 ANU-6584 2000 ± 150 1686–2334 1967 Charcoal Ocean/estuarine McDonald
Reserve Layer I BP [0.97] [Rsh] (1992a:
(analytic unit 5, 1617–1675 46–47,
spit 11) BP [0.03] Table 1)
Balmoral BB2/M4/04- 04–09 Beta-55984 3000 ± 80 2473–3053 2777 Shell Estuary mouth Top of midden Attenbrow
Beach 2 shelly BP [1] [Rsh] removed (1993:12,
BB2/M8/07- 19–23 Beta-60308 2960 ± 60 2454–2950 2728 Shell Estuary mouth during Table 2)
shelly BP [1] [Rsh] roadworks in
1960s; age
of uppermost
undisturbed
deposit inside
rockshelter in
Squares M4
and M8
BB2/M4/10-BL 45–50 Beta-56286 3080 ± 90 3058–3469 3280 Charcoal Estuary mouth Age of base
BP [0.97] [Rsh] of shelly layer
3005–3053 in Squares M4
BP [0.03] and M8
BB2/M8/13- 52–57 Beta-60309 3070 ± 70 3076–3412 3278 Charcoal Estuary mouth
SBB BP [0.98] [Rsh]
3423–3442
BP [0.02]
Bantry BanB3/Square 16–19 SUA-0593 4520 ± 100 4388–5029 4699 Shell Estuarine – mid Ross and
Bay 3 3A/spit 4b BP [1] [Rsh] Specht
(1976:16)
Berry Square 5BN/ 20–35 OZF–209 1195 ± 40 964–1149 1043 Human Estuarine – mid ANSTO
Island 3 spit 4 BP [0.96] bone [Rsh] (email: 18
1157–1171 April 2007),
BP [0.04] Jo McDonald
CHM (2000:
Plates 8, 9,
App. 4:2.)
Cammeray CAM/G9/ 39 Wk-3052 2330 ± 90 2146–2618 2372 Charcoal Estuarine – mid Attenbrow
Sample Y from BP [0.90] [Rsh] (1994:
section = 2633–2706 Table 9)
CAM/G9/ BP [0.10]
spit 11
CAM/Square 20 Wk-3219 5840 ± 50 6040–6433 6254 Shell Estuarine – mid
ST9-10/spit BP [0.99] [Rsh]
4-LrShell 6029–6035
BP [0.01]
Castle Cove,
Column F/spit 73–75 OZC-901 1650 ± 40 1016–1351 1199 Shell Estuarine – mid Attenbrow
SSM22563 15, base of BP [1] [O] et al. (1997)
midden
Cumberland Lens of shell 67 × 51 × 6 cm Beta-47633 0890 ± 60 322–642 502 Shell Estuarine – mid Attenbrow
Street, deep; beneath 65 cm of BP [1] [O] (1992b:
Sydney CBD historical overburden 19–20)
(continued)
Conventional CalBP Med
Depth of C14 age and Cal age 2 Probability Aquatic zone [site
Sample sample standard sigma [Calib [Calib location O = open;
Site name provenance (cm) Lab No. deviation 5.0.1] 5.0.1] Material Rsh = rockshelter] Comments References
Mt Trefle, MT/Ad/spit 5 05–12 Wk-2082 1730 ± 50 1093–1474 1279 Shell Estuary mouth Depth and Attenbrow
Vaucluse (inside shelter) BP [1] [Rsh] stratigraphy and Steele
MT/Cb/spit 55–63 Wk-2083 1170 ± 60 926–1175 BP 1031 Charcoal Estuary mouth of Squares (1995:51)
10 (outside [1] [Rsh] Ad and Ca-b
shelter) are different;
Square A
deposit was on
a rock shelf
Reef Beach Shell taken ca. 60–70 SUA-401 1150 ± 90 522–914 BP 712 Shell Estuary mouth O’Donnell
from near base [1] [O] and Walker
of midden (1982:3, 7,
15–16);
Walker
(1978:2–3)
Sugarloaf 2 SUG/J3east/5 31–34 Wk-4196 4170 ± 40 3988–4445 4244 Shell Estuarine – mid Attenbrow
(31–34 cm) BP [1] [Rsh] (1995:18,
Table 7)
Archaeological Evidence for Land Animal Hunting

and Plant Gathering
The identified land animal remains from excavated middens around Port Jackson
include mammals (kangaroo, wallaby, dingo, bandicoot, possums, gliders, potoroo
and marsupial mice), reptiles (lizard, goanna), birds (brush turkey) and amphibians
(frog) (Attenbrow 2010b:Tables 7.2 and 7.3).
The Port Jackson faunal assemblages vary widely in size, with some middens
having very little and even no animal bone. The number of identified species also
varies quite widely. The largest faunal assemblage comes from Balmoral Beach
where a greater number of land animal taxa has been identified than in any other
excavated Port Jackson site. At Balmoral Beach macropods and gliders/possums
were the most abundant land animal remains (Walshe 1995).
Along the adjacent coast and estuaries, Angophora Reserve as well as several sites
in Royal National Park and on Kurnell Peninsula have land animal bone assemblages
(Brayshaw et al. 1992:Table 4.1.1; Dallas 2005:Tables 5.14–5.17; Dallas et al.
2001:Tables 4.3–4.6; Glover 1974:Table 7; Tracey 1974:21, Tables 2 and 6; Megaw
1968a:326; Megaw and Roberts 1974:Table 4; Wood 1992:Table 5, 6, 11 and 12).
Angophora Reserve has the largest number of identified species of the excavated
Sydney region sites; again because of the large volume excavated. Macropods were
the most commonly identified animals at Angophora Reserve. It has a large number
of identified reptiles and birds which again is probably due to the large size and
good preservation of the faunal assemblage in this midden. The small, fine bones
of these animals often do not survive in the relatively acidic soils of the Sydney
region. In addition, historical accounts indicate that the bones of birds, reptiles, and
other small animals were often crushed and eaten
… if a bird was shot, and thrown to them, they would immediately pluck off the feathers,
put it upon the fire without taking out the intestines, and eat the whole; sometimes they did
not pull off the feathers, and, if it were a small bird, did not even throw the bones away
(Hunter 1793[1968]:80).
The large number of identified fauna from Angophora Reserve and Balmoral Beach
is due, in large part, to the extensive excavations undertaken and the consequent
large faunal assemblage recovered. The lack of bone in some middens may be par-
tially due to the small area excavated, but it may also be that the shells derive from
shellfish eaten during the day (i.e. they are Meehan’s 1982 dinner-time camps),
and/or are dumps of shell from which the meat was taken as bait for fishing.
Despite the varying size of faunal assemblages from the Sydney region sites, the
excavated remains suggest that the hunting of land animals by coastal groups is
under-documented in the historical accounts.
The only remains of a plant that can be said unequivocally to have been humanly
transported into a Sydney region site come from Angophora Reserve, where kernels
ands sclerotestae from the cycad Macrozamia communis (locally known as
Burrawang) were associated with a hearth dated to ~1000 years ago. This rarity of
archaeological evidence for food plants, as well as the poor historical record for their
use, is in strong contrast to the long list of over 200 Sydney region plants which are
484 V. Attenbrow
known to have edible parts and to have been eaten in other parts of south-eastern
New South Wales (see above) and the ethnographic descriptions from other
Australian Aboriginal societies where plant foods were a prominent part of the diet
(Gould 1969:18–19; Meehan 1982:146–147). The use of plant foods in the Sydney
region appears to be under-represented in both the historical accounts and archaeo-
logical record. The sparse archaeological evidence for plant use is principally due the
fact that organic remains do not survive well (if at all) in the relatively acidic soils
of the Sydney region, and special excavation and retrieval techniques or use-wear/
residue studies designed to detect plant remains/residues have yet to be undertaken.
Summary of Archaeological Evidence for the Role of Marine

Resources in the Diet of Aboriginal People Around Port Jackson
The archaeological evidence supports the view that the diet of the Aboriginal peo-
ple of Port Jackson included both marine and land animals. It provides a more
comprehensive list of the fish and shellfish and other marine animal species eaten
than the historical accounts. It indicates that shellfishing played a more important
role than the historical records suggest, though the number and visibility of mid-
dens over-emphasises the role of shellfish in the diet. It is clear however, that fish-
ing was an important activity and that fish were an important part of the diet.
Geographical Variation
Another major contribution that the archaeological record provides is evidence for
variability in the amount of fishing activity in different parts of the estuary. The
historical documents indicate fishing was carried out in many parts of Port Jackson
and its tributaries, with the lower estuary perhaps being favoured fishing grounds;
the few historical references to hunting and catching of land animals provide no
hints as to whether these activities were focussed in any particular part of the estu-
ary. The archaeological evidence, however, suggests that the focus on these activi-
ties may have varied in different parts of the estuary. To demonstrate the spatial
variation, I have used relative measures comparing weights of fish bone, marine
animal bone and land animal remains and shell in each site where these data were
available (Table 20.2; Fig. 20.4), and bearing in mind the volume excavated and
number of fish taxa identified.
Fish and Fishing
The amount of fish bone recovered from middens in different parts of the estuary
varies geographically. Excavated middens adjacent to the middle and upper reaches
Aboriginal Shell Midden and Location in Estuary

PORT JACKSON: RATIO OF SHELL:MARINE ANIMAL BONE:LAND ANIMAL
BONE
LOWER ESTUARY
Balmoral Beach M6/1-21
Mt Trefle, Vaucluse Shell (g)
MIDDLE & UPPER ESTUARY
Cammeray G9 Marine animal
Bantry Bay B3 bone (g)
Castle Cove Land animal

bone (g)
Cumberland Street
Sugarloaf J3East Unidentified
bone (g)
Abbotsford
88% 90% 92% 94% 96% 98% 100%

Percentatage Ratio (weight [g])
Fig. 20.4 Percentage ratios of shell: marine animal bone: land animal bone: and unidentified
bone for excavated Port Jackson Aboriginal shell middens
of the estuary have very few fish remains and a very limited range of identified taxa.
For example, the maximum number of taxa identified in assemblages at any mid-
estuarine site was two, in contrast to the lower estuary assemblages where 13 and
14 taxa were identified (Table 20.1). An exception is Milk Beach, a small shallow
midden at Vaucluse near the estuary mouth, where the volume excavated was very
much less than at other sites (Tables 20.1 and 20.2).
This spatial patterning suggests that most fishing activity took place in the lower
part of the estuary. This may be simply because there is a greater taxa diversity and
a greater biomass of fish in the broad deep waters of the lower estuary than in the
middle and upper reaches. The Gamarigal, whose country was the northern shore
of lower Port Jackson, were in fact reported as having the best fishing grounds
(Tench 1793:193[1979:285]). Variations in preservation factors within shell mid-
dens do not seem to play a role, though the post-1788 destruction of many large
middens may be a factor. Cultural practices, such as cooking and eating fish in the
canoes (Fig. 20.3; Collins 1798[1975]:461), which could possibly explain the lack
or paucity of fish bones in middens, were not reported as being restricted to certain
parts of Port Jackson and seem unlikely explanations for the sparseness of fish bone
in middle and upper estuarine middens. Other cultural explanations relating to
variations in resource use, such as a greater reliance on land animals in upper estua-
rine areas, and/or base camps or main campsites being located in away from the
estuary shoreline are discussed below.
A focus on fishing at the estuary mouth is supported by the distribution of shell
fish-hooks which are found only in coastal middens, along with stone files probably
used in their manufacture (Attenbrow et al. 1998). Around Port Jackson all but one
shell fish-hook were found in lower estuary middens.
486 V. Attenbrow
Shellfish and Shellfishing
The existence of shell middens all around the shores of Port Jackson and the estuarine
reaches of its tributaries indicates that shellfishing was a common activity in all parts
of the estuary. The species and number of shellfish taxa present in each midden depend
on its location within the estuary, that is, whether the midden is in the middle or upper
reaches of the estuary or in the lower estuary where ocean species also occur.
The middens near the estuary mouth have a greater species diversity than middle
and upper estuarine middens and are dominated by rock platform species (Attenbrow
1992b:Table 3). The most common dominant species are rock oyster (S. glomerata),
hairy mussel (Trichomya hirsuta), black nerita (Nerita atramentosa), variegated
limpet (Cellana tramoserica), Cartrut (Dicathais orbita), Splengers triton (Cabestana
spengleri), Sydney cockle (Anadara trapezia) and the large Turban (Turbo torquatus).
Edible mussel (Mytilus planulatus/edulis) has been recorded at very few middens
and is present in very small quantities in those sites where it has been recorded. No
one species appears to predominate in the estuary mouth middens to the same extent
that rock oyster does in the middle/upper estuarine middens.
Fewer species are recorded in middle and upper estuarine middens. Generally,
shell middens in the middle and upper estuarine reaches have rock oyster and
Sydney cockle (A. trapezia) as the dominant species. Other common shell species
are Hairy mussel, Hercules whelk (Pyrazus ebeninus) and spiny oyster (Chama
fibula), mud oyster (O. angasi), the wink (Bembicium auratum) and the small
whelk (Velacumantus australis) (Attenbrow 1991:49, 1992b:Table 3). The latter
two species, along with other infrequently retrieved small species, are usually
<10 mm and may not have been collected as food items.
Land Animals
The amount of bone retrieved (number or weight) has not always been recorded for
each site, but where such details are available it appears that the amount of land
animal bone in each site varies widely (Table 20.2; Fig. 20.4). The largest assem-
blages of land animal bones are near the estuary mouth and along the ocean
shoreline – a similar pattern to fish remains. In Port Jackson, for example, Balmoral
Beach and Vaucluse have relatively large bone assemblages compared to Cammeray,
Castle Cove, Sugarloaf and Balls Head, while no bones at all were recovered from
Abbotsford and Bantry Bay 3 (Table 20.2; Fig. 20.4).
Conclusions
The historical accounts place a strong emphasis on fishing as a principal component

of the diet of the people living around the shores Port Jackson, with much less
emphasis on land animals and plant foods except in the winter months. The faunal
remains retrieved from excavated archaeological sites indicate that people had a
mixed or generalised coastal subsistence economy based on both marine and ter-
restrial resources (cf. Lampert 1971:63–64). The amount of bone and number of land
animal species identified indicates hunting was certainly part of their subsistence,
and was more important along the coast than the small number of historical descrip-
tions indicates. It is possible that, because hunting (as well as gathering plants and
smaller animals) took place in timbered country, hunting and plant collecting simply
was not as visible as fishing activities on the open waters of the estuaries and coast-
line. In the forests and woods people could hide themselves easily or be obscured by
the trees and undergrowth (Poiner 1976:200; Southwell 1788[1893:703]). Thus, the
chance for the colonists to observe people hunting was much lower. If this were the
case, the early writers may have presented a biased view of the subsistence base in
this part of the country. However, the relative abundance of fish bone compared to
land animal bone in the faunal assemblages support the historical accounts insofar
as they indicate that the subsistence activities of the Aboriginal people living around
Port Jackson focussed on marine resources, particularly fishing and shellfishing.
Aboriginal people were observed fishing in all parts of the Port Jackson estuary,
and, although there were many different groups living around the estuary, the his-
torical records give the impression that they all shared a basically similar subsis-
tence base compared to people who lived in the hinterland, that is, west of
Parramatta and Liverpool on the Cumberland Plain and along the western reaches
of the Hawkesbury River (Attenbrow 2010b). The distribution of shell middens
indicates that shellfishing was undertaken in all parts of the estuary, although estu-
ary mouth sites have a wider range of shellfish with the addition of the ocean spe-
cies. However, the archaeological record indicates that the proportion of fish and
other marine fauna relative to shellfish in middens near the estuary mouth is greater
than in middens in middle and upper estuarine locations. In addition, interestingly,
the archaeological evidence indicates that land animal remains also occur more
commonly in middens near the estuary mouth, and there is very little (and some-
times none) in sites in middle and upper estuarine locations. The excavated faunal
remains thus suggest that people living in the coastal zone did not all share the same
subsistence pattern and that fishing and hunting land animals was carried out prin-
cipally in the lower estuary, and that shellfish formed a greater part of the marine
component of the diet in the middle and upper reaches of the estuary.
However, this may not be the case. The archaeological patterning need not be
explained in simple environmental terms or presence/absence terms, even though
the lower estuary does have a greater diversity of fish species than the middle and
upper estuary, and the abundance of fish would also be greater as the area and vol-
ume of water in which fish were available is greater at the estuary mouth.
The lack/sparseness of fish and particularly land animal remains in the middle
and upper estuarine middens is puzzling. One plausible explanation is that in the
middle and upper reaches of the estuary the subsistence and camping patterns dif-
fered from those in the lower estuary. Shellfish were either eaten and/or the shells
discarded at the shoreline, whereas fish were carried to campsites away from the
shoreline, perhaps closer to where land animals were hunted and eaten as they may
have formed a greater part of the diet than in the lower estuary.
488 V. Attenbrow
The presently documented archaeological patterning supports the historical

accounts that fishing was a significant part of the subsistence economy of people
living around Port Jackson. However, fishing appears to have played a greater role
in the subsistence activities in the lower estuary than in the middle and upper estua-
rine reaches, and thus the extent to which fishing was carried out and the role of
marine resources in the diet varied substantially in different parts of Port Jackson.
Acknowledgements I wish to acknowledge funding from the Australian Institute of Aboriginal

& Torres Strait Islander Studies and Mosman Council, the assistance of National Parks & Wildlife
Service and Cammeray landowners, and the work of many volunteers who helped in excavations
and sorting of excavated materials. Thanks to Australian Museum scientific staff for their assis-
tance in identifying biological specimens and providing information: Phil Colman and Ian Locke
in Malacology, Tom Trinski and Mark McGrouther in Ichthyology, Tim Flannery, Sandy Ingleby
and the late Linda Gibson in Mammals, Alan Greer in Herpetology. Many thanks also to Fiona
Roberts drew the map for Fig. 20.1 at short notice.
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Index
A Coastal, 3, 27–45, 51–94, 105, 117, 137, 161,

Aboriginal Australians, 441, 463–488 180, 203, 249, 273, 291–301, 309, 333,
Adaptive flexibility, 163, 170, 174, 355–379, 383–398, 405, 421–435,
204, 206 441–457, 463
Africa, 27, 258, 261, 383, 422, 423, 425, 429 Coastal adaptations, 5, 8, 9, 16–18, 20, 21, 27,
Agulhas current, 385, 423 28, 35, 137, 155, 161, 163, 203, 205,
Alaska, 4, 64–65, 85, 105, 113, 121 206, 213, 237, 239, 383, 384, 388, 395,
Algarve, 205, 237, 238, 273, 280, 292, 293, 398, 420–435, 441
300, 393 Coastal inland interaction, 206, 223
Anatomical modern humans, 27, 204, 247, Coastal migration, 5, 11, 16, 17, 19, 21,
267, 384 28, 162
Archaeological visibility, 79, 80, 86, Coastal resources, 72, 180, 190, 193, 198,
93, 450 199, 204, 207, 212, 232, 273, 291, 334,
Archaeomalacology, 180, 181 336, 344, 355–379, 383–398, 405, 425,
Aterian, 384, 389–391, 394, 395, 397, 398 430, 433, 434, 441, 444–446, 448, 450,
Australia, 81, 441–457, 463–488 454–456
Azilian, 179, 188–190, 193, 195–199
D
B Deglaciation, 55, 59–61, 65, 213
Baja California, 9, 33, 42, 120, 121, 125–126,
132, 156, 161–175
Baja California Sur, 3, 11, 14 E
Benguela current, 385 Early Holocene, 5, 6, 8–10, 18, 21, 30,
Bipolar technique, 340, 344 51, 52, 68, 69, 72, 74–77, 79, 82,
British Columbia, 3, 4, 8, 11, 14, 15, 21, 29, 85, 90, 93, 94, 117, 125, 137, 138,
31, 41, 51–94, 105, 124, 155 141, 151–154, 164, 166, 168, 169,
173, 175, 179–199, 205, 282, 291,
333, 346, 349, 355–379, 406,
C 444–449, 455, 456
California, 425 Economic adaptation, 154–156
Cantabrian, 180, 181, 183, 188, 190, 193 Economy, 18, 20, 31, 35, 108, 109, 114,
Cape Floral Region, 423, 425 153, 156, 172, 295, 349, 450, 452, 456,
Chile, 16, 19, 65, 87, 127–129, 132, 333 487, 488
Chukotka Peninsula, 106 Ecotone, 87, 238, 239, 249, 356, 358,
Climate, 55, 60, 89, 155, 162, 180, 181, 373, 378
185, 196, 203–207, 218, 252, 284, 286, Ecuador, 130, 355–379
336, 361, 367, 377, 378, 423, 425, 434, Environmental change, 9, 51, 52, 82, 93, 205,
449, 456 228, 286, 367
DOI 10.1007/978-1-4419-8219-3, © Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2011
494 Index
Estremadura, 205, 209, 210, 215–218, 231, I

238, 240 Iberomaurusian, 384, 389, 390, 395, 397
Indian Sands site, 19, 131, 137, 138, 149, 156
Instability, 87, 206, 207, 218, 236, 361, 366,
F 375, 377, 378, 449
Farming, 377–379, 413 Island biogeography,
Fauna, 51, 61–63, 65, 74, 89, 94, 125, 164,
171, 173, 175, 233, 236, 261, 275–281,
292, 296, 323, 333, 334, 336, 337, 339, K
344, 345, 349, 367, 413, 445, 483, 487 Kamchatka Peninsula, 106, 114
Final Paleolithic, 105–115
Fish-hooks, 122, 127, 171, 466, 485
Fishing, 19, 63, 93, 105–115, 120, 171, 358, L
383, 404, 434, 448, 463 Landscape learning,
Fish remains, 125, 127, 171, 277, 278, 293, Las Vegas, 130, 355–379
448–450, 485, 486 Late Magdalenian, 179, 183–187, 193, 196,
Fluctuations, 20, 65, 204, 206–208, 213, 228, 198, 199
259, 281, 285, 298, 300, 335, 366, 377, Late Pleistocene, 3, 5–7, 10, 13, 14, 16, 20,
398, 409, 455, 456 21, 30, 31, 34, 35, 52, 57, 58, 65–77,
Foraging, 5, 19, 34, 153, 154, 167, 173, 252, 79, 84, 117, 123, 137, 138, 141, 145,
254, 267, 282, 291, 298, 300, 355, 361, 154–156, 164, 166, 179–199, 206, 208,
375, 377, 378, 388, 429–434, 441, 447, 238, 273, 291, 333, 346, 347, 356,
452, 456 358–360, 383–398, 405, 441, 442,
444–448, 455
Later stone age, 384, 405–416, 423
G Limpets, 191, 261, 266, 267, 277, 280–286,
Geophytes, 422, 423, 425 292, 293, 296, 297, 385–389, 392,
Gibraltar, 247–267 394–398, 407–409, 415, 416, 429, 433
Gorham’s cave, 204, 249–253, 261, Lithic technolog(y)ical systems, 9, 125, 137,
264–267, 388 151, 168, 340, 344
Gravettian, 204–206, 273, 275–280, 285, 286, Localisation, 456, 457
298, 299
Great Barrier Reef, 443
Gromatukhinskaya culture, 107–108, 114 M
Magdalenian, 179, 183, 185–187, 190,
193, 196–199, 205, 206, 275, 276, 278,
H 298, 299
Historical records, 470–472, 476, 484 Mangrove, 130, 356, 358, 361, 363–368, 372,
Holocene, 5, 29, 51, 117, 137, 164, 179–199, 373, 378, 445, 452, 465
205, 282, 298, 305, 333, 355–379, 383, Marine and terrestrial resources, 291–301
405, 434 Marine fish, 15, 61, 63, 126, 206, 273, 373
Human dispersal and migration, Marine productivity, 11, 12, 14–17, 19–21,
Human ecology, 11, 21, 161, 386 206, 207
Human evolution, Marine resources, 6, 7, 9, 10, 19, 35, 70, 90,
Human impact, 409, 416 127, 132, 163, 172–174, 187, 198, 204,
Hunter-gatherers, 90, 117, 120, 137, 138, 153, 205, 212, 238, 247, 249, 259–262, 266,
156, 207, 238, 248, 249, 334, 340, 346, 273, 277, 278, 281, 286, 291, 296–298,
348–350, 384, 408, 412–414, 423, 425, 300, 323, 333, 336, 344, 358, 367, 373,
426, 429, 430, 432 376–379, 383, 386, 388, 423, 433, 442,
Hunting, 9, 16, 36, 66, 70, 72, 76, 107–109, 445, 448, 450, 455, 457, 463–488
114, 128, 132, 133, 155, 163, 167, 173, Marine transgressions, 3, 9, 80, 81, 333, 350,
193, 247–249, 257, 261, 276, 293, 307, 361, 444–448, 456
324, 371, 372, 425, 456, 467, 469, 471, Mesolithic, 29, 179, 181, 190–196, 292, 297,
483–484, 487 298, 388
Index 495
Mesolithic–Neolithic transition, 193–195, 292 Osipovskaya culture, 109

Methodology, 181, 228, 307–308, 322 Over killing, 307
Middle-Late Holocene, 346, 348, 349
Middle Paleolithic, 29, 213, 215, 216, 222,
225, 227, 228, 383 P
Middle stone age, 247, 383, 405, 408, 413, Pacific basin, 105
414, 422 Palaeoenvironment, 30, 37, 52, 55, 65, 70, 79,
MIS 3, 205, 207–209, 212, 213, 217, 218, 231, 84, 85, 94, 133, 358, 360–361, 384,
232, 234, 236, 238, 239, 249, 252, 253, 444, 445
264, 266, 285 Palaeoshorelines, 28, 58, 448, 455
Mobility, 92, 113, 120, 125, 131, 137–156, Paleocoastal, 3–21, 45
179, 187, 190, 198, 300, 301, 372, Paleogeography,
375, 422, 426, 429, 434, 435, 441, 449, Paleolandscapes, 28–31, 33–38, 40, 42, 45
450, 456 Paleovegetation, 208–210
Modern human origins, 383, 398 Pampas, 336, 347
Molluscs, 179, 180, 183, 187, 189, 190, 193, Peopling of the Americas, 5, 86, 92, 94
194, 196, 198, 199, 203, 248, 260, 261, Peopling of the New World, 45, 115, 117, 137,
264–266, 408, 413, 414 161, 163, 174
Morocco, 234, 235, 250, 383, 384, 389–391, Peru, 126, 127, 129–132, 333, 358, 361, 371
394, 397, 398 Phytoliths, 368, 370, 375, 376
Mossel Bay, 429, 430, 432, 433 Pinnacle Point, 385–387, 422–424, 426, 429
Mussels, 63, 70, 125, 164, 191, 261, 266, 267, Plants, 55, 59–61, 68, 88, 89, 122, 128, 130,
280, 292, 296, 297, 347, 348, 385, 164, 166, 167, 173, 203, 204, 212, 238,
387–389, 394, 395, 397, 398, 408, 409, 252, 253, 256, 285, 286, 291, 301, 345,
428, 429, 433, 476 355, 358, 359, 361, 366, 368, 371–373,
375–378, 423, 434, 456, 466, 470–472,
483–484, 486, 487
N Pleistocene, 3, 27, 37, 51, 52, 55, 64, 82,
Neanderthals, 204, 205, 229, 234, 239, 89, 91, 105, 108, 113, 127, 132, 141,
247–267, 388 163, 167, 172–175, 203–208, 213–215,
Neolithic, 106, 109, 110, 112–114, 193–195, 226, 231, 237–239, 249, 258, 371, 410,
198, 291–301, 389–391, 395 425, 455
Neotectonism, 213 Pleistocene landscape, 27, 207–213
New World, 3–5, 7, 10, 17–21, 27, 28, 44, 45, Port Jackson, 463–488
115, 117–133, 137, 161, 163, 174 Portugal, 203–239, 273–275, 277, 280–282,
North Africa, 250, 383, 399, 413 284–286, 291–301, 388
North America, 5, 8, 10, 11, 13, 16, 21, Postglacial, 3, 5, 27, 112, 238, 335
27, 29–31, 35, 36, 45, 68, 105, 120, Prehistoric coastal archaeology, 5
132, 137, 138, 155, 156, 166, 167, 169, Prehistoric human diet, 61, 70, 203, 204, 247,
174, 425 248, 256, 267, 283, 284, 286, 300, 336,
Novopetrovskaya culture, 108–109 345, 375, 377, 383, 410, 414, 422, 423,
Nutrition, 422, 434 425, 434, 447, 450, 463–488
O Q
Obsidian provenance, 70, 109, 121, 124, 125, Queensland, 441, 443–451, 454–457
127, 131, 138, 143, 145, 149, 153–156
Occupational model, 334
Ogon’ki culture, 109 R
Omega 3, 283, 434 Raised marine deposits, 231
Omega 6, 283 Remote sensing, 29, 37–40, 51, 77–79, 85
Oregon, 3, 4, 8, 11, 13–15, 29, 34, 52, 65, 124, Rocha das Gaivotas, 292, 293, 296–298,
125, 131, 132, 137–156, 281 300, 301
Organic technology, 70, 127 Routes of migration, 27, 87
496 Index
Russian Far East, 105–115 355, 366, 375, 377, 383, 384, 388, 394,
395, 398, 405, 441, 450, 456, 463, 466,
487, 488
S Supra-regional scale, 334, 349
Salmon fishing, 105, 106, 108, 109, 113–115 Sydney Harbour, 464, 465
Sampling, 31, 36, 37, 39–44, 51, 58, 60, 68,
78, 80–86, 247, 317, 318, 442, 457
Sea level, 19, 27, 52, 138, 162, 205–207, 249, T
280, 335, 361, 387, 405, 444 Taphonomy, 309–310, 324, 325
Sea level rise, 27, 34, 36, 72, 80, 163, 167, Technology, 7, 9, 18, 20, 38–42, 51, 70, 73,
188, 191, 198, 205, 209, 218, 219, 336, 93, 117, 120, 124, 125, 127, 128,
406, 444, 445 130–133, 137–156, 165, 168, 170, 174,
Seascape, 45, 202–239 193, 247, 266, 334, 340, 344, 378, 383,
Selemjinskaya culture, 107 386, 434, 449
Shellfish, 19, 61, 62, 91, 120, 126, 164, Tectonic uplift, 205, 361, 365, 366
171, 173 Terrestrial resources, 212, 266, 275, 281,
Shellfish growth rate, 408, 413–415 291–301, 356, 377, 385, 431
Shellfish harvesting, 283, 379 Torres Strait, 441, 443, 446, 448, 449,
Shellfishing, 383, 405–416, 448, 465, 453–455, 457
468–469, 476–477, 484, 486, 487
Shellfish size reduction, 405–416
Shell middens, 39, 70, 74, 75, 124, 126, 127, U
143, 189, 291–293, 298, 301, 386, 388, Underwater archaeological methods, 82
434, 451, 453, 454, 485 Underwater archaeology, 27–45, 80, 82
Shell mounds, 333–335, 347, 372, 447–449, Upper Paleolithic, 29, 106, 179, 204, 206, 213,
451–453 215, 216, 222, 225, 227, 228, 230, 231,
Small game, 247–267, 298 238, 248, 249, 265–267, 273–286, 293,
Solutrean, 179, 204, 250, 251, 253, 254, 383, 388, 397
256–259, 261, 264–266, 273, 275, 276, Upwelling, 11, 13–17, 19, 155, 164, 207–208,
278–282, 285, 298, 299 213, 238, 281, 282, 285, 286, 291, 385,
South Africa, 29, 203, 281, 306, 384, 398, 412, 423
405, 420 Ustinovskaya culture, 109
South America, 3, 17, 305, 333–350, 355, 357,
359, 360, 366, 375, 376
South American pinnipeds, 307 V
Southeastern Australia, 81, 446 Vale Boi, 204, 205, 238, 273–286, 292–296,
Southern Northwest Coast, 137–156 298–301
Southern Patagonia, 129, 305–325, 333, 335 Vangard Cave, 204, 249–253, 261,
Spain, 179–199, 205, 282, 285, 388 264–267, 388
Stone figurines,
Strategies of colonization, 161
Submerged archaeological sites, 80–82 W
Submerged landscapes, 38 Wood-working tools, 107–109, 111, 114
Subsistence, 8, 20, 35, 89, 117, 118, 120,
121, 127, 132, 172–174, 179, 187, 193,
203, 247–249, 253, 256, 260, 264, 266, Z
267, 298, 301, 334, 336, 340, 346, 349, Zooarchaeology, 308, 309, 324

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Trekking the Shore

INTERDISCIPLINARY CONTRIBUTIONS TO ARCHAEOLOGY

For further volumes:

Trekking the Shore

ISBN 978-1-4419-8218-6 e-ISBN 978-1-4419-8219-3

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011926798

© Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2011

Printed on acid-free paper

Springer is part of Springer Science+Business Media (www.springer.com)

Part I North America and Eurasia

1 The North American Paleocoastal Concept Reconsidered.................... 3

2 Prehistoric Archaeology Underwater: A Nascent Subdiscipline

3 Early Environments and Archaeology of Coastal

4 Blessing the Salmon: Archaeological Evidences

5 Early Technological Organization Along the Eastern

6 Technology, Mobility, and Adaptation Among Early

7 Of Clams and Clovis: Isla Cedros, Baja California, Mexico.................. 161

8 Changes in Molluscan Exploitation Patterns During the Late

9 Paleolithic Landscapes and Seascapes

10 Small Game and Marine Resource Exploitation

11 Prying New Meaning from Limpet Harvesting

12 Surf and Turf: The Use of Marine and Terrestrial

Part II South America, Africa, and Oceania

13 Pinniped Zooarchaeological Studies in Southern Patagonia:

14 The Use of the Space in the Pampean Atlantic Coast

15 Coastal Resources and the Early Holocene

16 Initial Investigations into the Exploitation of Coastal

17 Shellfishing and the Interpretation of Shellfish Sizes

18 Coastal South Africa and the Coevolution of the Modern

19 Coastal Foragers on Southern Shores: Marine Resource

20 The Role of Marine Resources in the Diet of Pre-Colonial

Denver, CO, USA

Vancouver, BC, Canada

PO Box 6811, Cairns, QLD 4870, Australia

Nuro F. Bicho, Jonathan A. Haws, and Loren G. Davis

Coastal Resources in Human Evolution

Human Dispersal and Migration

Coastal Environments and Human Adaptation

p­ roductivity. Furthermore, western North American precipitation patterns were

Archaeological Record of Coastal Settlement

Finding the Sites

Submerged Landscapes and Underwater Archaeology

s­ ubmerged landscapes and archaeology of the continental shelf require a coopera-

Organization of the Volume

The Pleistocene archaeological record of North America’s Pacific coast is under-

The North American Paleocoastal Concept

additional evidence for the relatively early diversification of Paleoindian

Paleoenvironmental Context of the Northeastern Pacific Ocean

Paleoenvironmental information plays a critical role in any evaluation of the timing,

thinking that demonstrates the importance of considering the human ecological

(ka cal BP)

In their examination of marine microfossil tracers (alkenones) and pollen assem-

Santa Barbara Basin

Cannariato et al. (1999) relate the occurrence of different sedimentological

11,500 cal BP (except for the Bølling-Ållerød oscillations), which contributed to

Toward a Contextual Model of Early New World

After considering the range of coastal adaptations seen in LP-aged archaeological

A review of LP-EH paleoceographic records from the northeastern Pacific reveals

appreciate how these paleoenvironmental conditions directly related to the human

2 Prehistoric Archaeology Underwater: A Nascent Subdiscipline

3 Early Environments and Archaeology of Coastal

4 Blessing the Salmon: Archaeological Evidences

5 Early Technological Organization Along the Eastern

6 Technology, Mobility, and Adaptation Among Early

p roductivity. Furthermore, western North American precipitation patterns were

s ubmerged landscapes and archaeology of the continental shelf require a coopera-

c oupled to a fine-grained knowledge of the land surface, and targeting of suitable